The Wizard Survivor Show!
by Alicey
Summary: *Update- entire story revised.* A satirical combination of Harry Potter and "Survivor." Contains mildly strong language, but also plenty of lovely goodies such as your favorite characters in leather or fluffy pink boxers.
1. The Commentators

PROLOGUE 

"And Now, we present to you, the viewers: _THE_ _WIZARD SURVIVOR SHOW_—the show in which wizards have to live like Muggles! It shall take place in the heart of Australia, in the Baba-nash-ka- Land of the Aborigines, where we have the world's most venomous serpents, bird-eating spiders, and REAL MUGGLES! The fourteen survivors must face daunting tasks that lay ahead of them in order to obtain fifty _thousand_ galleons!" 

"The fourteen lucky wizards who have been selected to be survivors on _WIZARD SURVIVOR_ are as follows:"

         'NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!'

          'HERMIONE GRANGER!'

         'LORD VOLDEMORT! What? Wait- Lord Voldemort? He's going to kill everyone on the show!" 

         "No, they won't be allowed to use wands."

          "Oh, Hades! That's going to be interesting!"

         "Do continue with the names, you damn arse."

         "Anyway.. we have Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Lord Voldemort.. and..

         'HARRY POTTER! Yes, the boy who lived!'

         'PANSY PARKINSON!'

         'DRACO MALFOY!' 

          'GEORGE WEASLEY!'

         'FRED WEASLEY!'

         'RON WEASLEY!' Mein gott, how many Weasleys are there?!"

         "Shut up, and continue with the roll call."

         "VINCENT CRABBE!'

          'SEVERUS SNAPE!'

         'BIRIUS SLACK!'

         'REMUS LUPIN!'

         'GREGORY GOYLE!"

         **"**And now, we'll be speaking to some of these lucky contestants. You can continue to watch this documentary on Wizard PrimeTime FireStation or listen to us on the Wireless Wizarding Network! Come sit with your family in front of the fire and see and hear what these lucky contestants have to say!"

          ****

A camera zoomed onto fourteen very-disoriented people standing on big marble steps. A perky, young, blonde reporter in bright, very tight, very short, blue robes flounced into view, bearing a writing pad and a Quick-Quotes Quill.

"Hi! My name's Rachel Himm!" the blonde witch chirped.  "I'm the one who's going to interview you regarding your thoughts about being the incredibly lucky Survivors picked for _Wizard Survivor!_" The camera panned the contestants again, and while Rachel was out of frame, she fumbled around in her purse, protruded a cigarette and smoked it as quickly as she could. By the time the camera had her in full view again, she'd flung away the cigarette and was smiling broadly. "By the way, I am a regular user of Mungley's Magical Tooth Whitening Potion! And now, I shall interview a contestant!" She moved to the person nearest her. 

"Hello, you are… let's seeeee," she said in an entirely flirtatious voice. "Oh, how lovely," she said, reading the name on her information sheet. "Vincent Crabbe, I presume?" 

Crabbe, who was a very muscular, heavyset boy about fifteen with gorilla arms and a pudding-bowl haircut, grunted.

"How do you feel about being on this show? Do you have any personal feelings that you wish to reveal to the wizarding world?"

"Duh.. you all suck! Har-har!" Crabbe exclaimed, his eyes becoming crossed. 

"Oh, lovely boy," Rachel said flippishly, her Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling away furiously on her writing pad. "Are you looking forward to the challenges that lay ahead?"

Crabbe stared stupidly at Rachel. "Uhhh?" he said, having no clue what she had said. His primary concern was Rachel's very obvious cleavage, of which three inches could be seen. 

"Lovely boy!" Rachel chirruped cheerfully. Then she moved to the person right of Crabbe. 

"And now we meet Gregory Goyle!" she exclaimed. She cocked her head and the camera zoomed onto a person built like Crabbe. He was heavyset, had arms similar to those of gorillas', and stared blankly with dull eyes. "How do you feel about being on the show, honey?"  

"Uhhh…" Goyle replied. Rachel (the sad epitome of "dumb blonde") never would realize nor guess that Goyle was staring at the plunging neckline of her bright blue robe.  Because Rachel was facing Goyle, Crabbe was positioned directly behind her. He was admiring her "curves." If the hem of her robe had been two inches higher, the bottom of her buttocks would have been easily visible, making the tattoo reading "Total Princess" visible as well. 

Twelve feet away, a young girl with bushy hair was whispering to two boys about her age as well, one with black hair and the other with red, "God, I don't want her to interview us! She's being such a…. cow!" 

"Lovely! Just lovely!" Rachel cried happily, patting Goyle's face. "Now, we meet Neville Longbottom! How do you feel about being on the show?"

    "W-w-ell," stammered Neville in reply. "I'm.. quite l-l-looking forward to it, though there is the bugs and stuff, which I'm not quite liking, and my grandmother's very proud of me, and I brought my toad, Trevor__"—Neville said, holding up a ugly toad. It croaked loudly and Rachel's face contorted into an expression of horror. 

    "Ayarrgh! GET THAT AWAY! I HATE FROGS!"

    "It's it's-it's- a t-t-toad!" Neville whimpered. He held it up more, as if to prove his point. Alas, Trevor wriggled out of his grip and leapt into his air, landing smack dab into Rachel's cleavage. 

    "OH, FUCK!" cried Rachel.  She burst into a cacophony of vile swear words, culminating with the statement: "I DON'T MAKE LOVE TO JUVENILES, DAMN YOU ALL! ESPECIALLY FROGS!- oh, dear, I didn't say that, I better do a memory charm… _Obli-" _she raised her wand, about to erase everyone's memories, but someone cut her off. And, really, cut her off. 

_"AVADA KEDRAVA!" _someone roared. There was a blinding flash of sickly green light and a rushing sound.

And Rachel Himm fell to the ground, dead before she'd hit the floor. 

"Who did that? I've got to thank them!" cried a very handsome seventeenish boy with blazing red hair. 

"I did," someone replied in a cold voice. 

The red-headed boy leapt forward and closed his eyes, prepared to give his best kiss to whoever had put down Rachel Himm. 

"Aaagh! GET OFF ME!" yelled the person with the cold voice.

"FRED! GET OFF! THAT'S VOLDEMORT YOU'RE KISSING!" a horrified voice creid.

Fred opened his eyes, and saw he was lip-locked with a horribly white face with scarlet, slitted eyes. 

"AAAAYARGH!" Fred screamed, leaping up. "TANGODAMMIT! I kissed You-Know-You!" 

"It wasn't a pleasure for me, either," said Voldemort acidly. "You do that again, and I'm going to put the Avada Kedavra curse on _you._"

A boy identical to Fred plowed into him, laughing hysterically. "Fred! I am never going to let you live this down!" 

"Shut up, George," Fred snapped. He turned around and started gagging violently. 

"Well," said the boy who had black hair and round glasses. "Our interviewer's dead." 

"That's apparent, Harry" said the girl with bushy hair. "So, Siri-erm, I mean, Birius, what do we do now?"

One of the few adults that were contestants strode forward. He was tall, handsome, and had a grin on his face. "Well, Hermione, since Voldemort did us all the favor of killing off that Rachel Himm, we might as well as introduce ourselves to the camera. I'll go first!" he said brightly. "I'm Sir- erm, Birius Slack, and I'm a sexy god, oh yeah, baby, and yes, I'm going to be a Survivor! And I must say, this is going to be so much fun. I've got plans. Oy, yes-" 

"Shove off, Birius!" chorused Fred and George. "We're the Weasley twins! We're all for fun! Hey, Neville, come here!" 

Neville, whose face was puffy and streaked with tears because his toad had been suffocated to death in Rachel Binn's cleavage, came over sniffling. 

"Want a Canary Cream?" said George, grinning evilly. "We're sorry about your toad. We'll get you a Komodo dragon." 

Neville took the Canary Cream without hesitation, and turned into a giant Canary.   
  
Fred and George chuckled and turned back to the camera. "Viewers, you have all just seen just one example of our many tricks that we have created ourselves! Write to us at the Burrow, for a free catalogue! And-"

Someone growled in the background. Then a sinister-looking man with black hair and eyes came into view. "THIS IS AN INTERVIEW, NOT AN ADVERTISEMENT!" Apparently, this man was very sodded off.

"Snape, give it a rest," Birius said.

Snape stared at the person speaking to him. "Birius, have I seen you before?" he asked, peering suspiciously. 

"Um, maybe in another lifetime," he replied innocently. 'Birius' elbowed Harry, who grinned. 

"Now, now, _Birius_, let's not make Severus mad.. we don't want to get off to a bad start…" said an amused voice. 

 "Aw, can't I mess around with him a little, Lupin?"

"No, you may not," said Lupin. 

"Oh, by the way, viewers, the crabby, greasy guy over there is Severus Snape and that guy over there is Remus Lupin! Lupin rocks, Snape sucks! Remember those good ol' days when we hung him up by his underwear in the  Great Ha-"

"Birius!" said Lupin warningly. 

"Alright, alright. So, who haven't we introduced? There's Harry Potter, of course, no-"

The camera zoomed onto Harry's forehead until the only thing that could be seen was his scar.

"Quit that!" Harry said, very annoyed. 

"I'm gonna put the Furnunculus curse on you, camera-man!" threatened Sirius. 

***dear reader, if you haven't made the connection that Birius Slack is Sirius Black in disguise.. then, boy… I really don't know what to say.**

The camera immediately moved away from Harry's forehead.

"And we have the lovely Hermione Granger!" 

Hermione blushed… or rather- turned a brilliant shade of red.

"Ron Weasley!" 

Ron turned the same color as Hermione.

"And.. hmm.. I believe there are two more…" said Lupin.

"That would be Draco Malfoy and.. um.. Dansy Parkinson?" 

"_PANSY PARKINSON, NOT DANSY, YOU MORON!"_ shrieked a girl's voice. 

"Malfoy, come out to the camera where the world can see you," said Snape. 

Malfoy popped out of nowhere, and positioned himself in front of the camera, looking smug. 

"Since when were you allowed to Apparate, Malfoy?" snarled Ron. "And stop looking like that!" 

"Sod off, Mudblood-lover," scoffed the blonde boy, the expression on his face becoming even more contemptuously smug. 

"YOU SONOFABITCH!" screamed Ron. He tackled Draco and aimed a punch towards his face.

"Owww! SNAPE! GET THIS GIT OFF OF ME!" screamed Draco. 

"RON!" roared Snape. "GET AWAY FROM MALFOY!" He pointed his wand menacingly at Ron. 

"Evil bastard," Ron muttered under his breath. He got off Malfoy, but not before punching him in the nose anyway. 

Draco got up and sniffed, his nose trickling blood. A blonde girl came rushing onto the scene, clutching Malfoy around the middle and simpering, "Oh, poor Malfoy, did that idiot Gryffindor beat you up? Let Pansy take care of you!" 

They started making out passionately. 

"Ick," chorused everyone except Snape, Voldemort, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Okay… well, you've met everyone!" said Birius brightly. "See you all on _Wizard Survivor!_ Everyone, say bye!" 

Everyone except Crabbe and Goyle waved goodbye. Those two had gotten to somewhere…

"Where are those cronies of Malfoy's?" asked Ron.

The camera panned around and found them, most unfortunately.

Crabbe and Goyle were taking turns raping the corpse of Rachel Himm.

Instantly, there was a cacophony of horrified cries. 

"OH MY GOD! NOOO!"

"NECROPHILIA?! MEIN GOTT! THAT SORT OF INCIDENT ISN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!" 

"GET THE CA-"

"AAAARGH! THAT'S HORRIBLE!"

"GET THE CAMER-"

The camera was shut off, and the scene of the chaos faded away into blackness. Then, two wide-eyed wizards came back into view. 

"That was… interesting," said the first one mildly. 

"Yes…that is, to say in the least. Well, we hope you enjoyed that, and we're looking forward to seeing you all on the first episode of _Wizard_ _Survivor!_" 

END PROLOGUE

***

Readers, (I'm surprised I have any) this is a full-out revision of _The Wizard Survivor Show_. I recently re-read it the other day, and was aghast with horror when I realized how many typos and grammatical errors were interspersed throughout the entire conflagration. I apologize heartily if any of you may have been annoyed by these run-on sentences, word misspellings, etcetera. I do desperately try not to make clichéd works.  One must realize that a work of insanity must be grammatically correct in order to be amusing and appealing… what I'd reread did not amuse or appeal to me.  I also took the liberty to remove some of the more American swear terms… I felt that they took away from the story flow.    All your favorite characters and Mary Sues shall remain where they are, however. My version of the British national anthem shall also stay put. No offense is intended toward those who are part of the British population- I do retain a respect for that country and its inhabitants. This story is merely to mock one of the most idiotic television shows ever created. 

.

DISCLAIMER 

Rachel Binns, the two commentators, Birius Slack, Wizard PrimeTime FireStation and the Wireless Wizarding Network belong to me.  Everything and everyone else is property of these entities:  Bloomsbury Inc., Scholastic, Warner Brothers, and J.K. Rowling. *sigh*  Only if it all were mine… that'd be most certainly fine….


	2. Episode One: Under-wear on the flagpole.

The Wizard Survivor Show

**EPISODE ONE:**

          "Hello everyone! Welcome to the premiere of _The Wizard Survivor Show!_ If you watched the commentary last week, you gits should know what's going to be involved. And for those of you who were smart enough not to watch it last week, we'll explain it all!" The man turned to the man sitting next to him. 

         "I am Vincent De Nicholson!" the second man chirped. He made a notable attempt to look dramatic, by puffing out his eyes. "Now, we've picked fourteen finalists to be survivors in the very heart of Australia, in the middle of the wild Aborigine land, deep within raw and wild nature, amongst the animals and the snakes and the bugs and under the blazing, blistering, burning sun, and the harsh-"

       "Percydamn, Vincent! Could you get to the point?!" 

       "Don't throw yourself into a fit, my dear Thomas. These fourteen finalists must brave the dangers of wilderness, starvation, and.. get this.... survive without…"

       "_Magic wands,"_ whispered Thomas. "But, most unfortunately for them, they don't know that little fact yet."

       Both wizards got identical evil grins on their faces, strikingly similar to those of a pair of mischievous redheads. "This is going to be very good, indeed."

       "And, they will determine who wins the 50,000 galleons prize by going through an hardy process of … _voting out people_!"

       A strange wizard walked up to the two commentators and raised his wand at them in a threatening manner, while glaring at them menacingly.  

       Both commenting wizards screamed and raised their hands into the air. "Don't kill us!" 

       "If you don't fucking start the show already, I'm going to turn you into horny little chickens! I'm getting sodded off! Can't you two shut your little traps already?" the terrorist-wizard hissed angrily. He shoved the point of his threatening wand even closer  to Vincent's nose. 

       "Oh, well, isn't that interesting?" Vincent commented. "Be transfigured into a horny chicken, I don't think I've heard that one before."

       "I think I may have…" Thomas started to say, but he was cut off as the terrorist wizard screamed certain choice words that were bleeped out by the show's faulty censor function. The next thing they all saw was a brilliant blue-white light that illuminated the room that blinded everyone temporarily. Then the light died away, and a collective gasp could be heard throughout the room.  Then…

          "Thomas, is that you?" Vincent gasped, goggling at a blue chicken which was on Thomas's chair. The entity known as Thomas was no longer there, and Vincent had reason to suspect that poor Thomas had been transformed into this badly transfigured example of poultry. He shook his head rather sadly- this most certainly had to be a crime against nature… what could be in the head of a person who'd want to transform someone into a blue chicken? Then suddenly with nary a warning, Thomas the chicken came forward and started humping away at Vincent's leg like a madman. 

          This resulted in much panicking. A flailing, kicking, screaming Vincent tried to shake the chicken off without much success. While he did so, he squealed an order to his simple-minded TV crew: "START THE SHOW, YOU BLOODY GITS! CUT TO COMMERCIAL! DO SOMETHING!" 

          And the wizard, terrorist, and horny chicken faded away from sight. 

*** 

          "Hello, and, finally, welcome to the actual premiere of the show. I'm your host… the most recent winner of Witch-Weekly's Best Smile Award- Lockhart!" chirruped a young, blonde wizard with blindingly white teeth. "And we have our survivors here, in the middle of a field around a random moldy old tire! Here is…" 

As he announced the names of each survivor, the camera zoomed onto their faces so closely every single detail on their faces was distinguishable, right down to each last pimple. "Pansy Parkinson! Draco Malfoy! Severus Snape! Birius Slack! Gregory Goyle! Harry Potter! Vincent Crabbe! George Weasley! Remus Lupin! Fred Weasley! Ron Weasley! Neville Longbottom! And.. Herminnee.. Hermyown… oh, dear me, I can't seem to pronounce that…" mused Lockhart.

       "Her-my-own-nee, Hermione!" snarled a very irate-looking girl with bushy hair. 

       "Hermione Granger!" jawed the host happily.

         Ron and Harry were staring at each other. 

          "Harry! That guy looks just like…"

          "Lockhart."

         "But.. it's not Lockhart, is it?"

         "No.. but.."

         Lockhart turned his face to the camera and gave another dazzling smile. "For those of you who may not know who I am… I'm very pleased to announce to all you viewers that I'm new to the entertainment scene! My father was Gilderoy Lockhart! And my name is Gilderoy Lockhart…" he paused for a moment. "Junior!" Lockhart Junior said all of this like it was the most important announcement in all of recorded history.

       "Oh, that explains it," Ron said happily. Then a horrified expression dawned upon his freckled face. "Oh, dear God, another Lockhart!" he moaned in anguish. 

       "Bloody hell, I remember Lockhart-the older one- from earlier times," muttered Sirius to Harry. "He was a bastard. I wonder what brainless female would even want to-"

          "Stop! Don't finish that sentence, Siri- I mean, Birius! Don't say it!" Harry snapped, shuddering violently. But it was too late. Images had already formed inside Harry's over-imaginative brain- images that would leave him mentally scarred for the rest of his life. 

          Sirius tried his best to look sympathetic. 

         Suddenly, violently loud popping sounds made everyone jump. The air was alight with flashing red and blue sparks, most of which were setting Lockhart Junior's bright red robes on fire. 

       "Ayarrrrgh! Set me out! Set me out!" screamed Lockhart Junior. 

       Everyone smirked, minus Neville. The boy had his minds on more pressing issues, such as his current malady in which his brand-new pet Komodo dragon that was attempting to maul him. 

       Amiable Hermione sighed in a most annoyed manner and muttered, "_Aquus._" A spout of water came streaming out of her wand and doused out the fire.

         "Thank you, my dear Hermione, for putting out the fire!" Junior said. Everyone else shot Hermione venomous glares.

       "I don't think you did that soon enough, Hermy," said Sirius in an overtly neutral voice. 

         "Oh, dear.. don't look!" Hermione whimpered in Junior's direction. 

         Everyone chose to look. What was all too visible elicited an interesting spectrum of responses. Fred and George were beside themselves. Everyone looked at each other uneasily as the twins rolled around on the ground, their torsos convulsing with hysterical giggles.  "Look! Oh, my, god! LOOK AT THOSE UNDERWEAR!"

          The section of Lockhart's robes that covered his inherited family jewels had been burned away, revealing a pair of very interesting boxers. 

         "DON'T LOOK!" roared Junior, his face turning bright red.

         "LOOK!" screeched Fred, snorting with laughter. 

         "DON'T LOOK! CLOSE YOUR EYES, DAMN YOU!" 

         "YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES!"

         The stupid, idiotic Lockhart Junior closed his eyes obediently. Fred and George came bounding forward, and immediately stripped away his underwear.

         "Oh, dear me, I feel a chill now," said Lockhart Junior. "I wonder why-"

         The Weasley twins attached the underwear to a flagpole and strung it up. "Salute and put your hands over your heart!" they chorused.

         "Gooooddd saaaave theeee, Gilderoyyyy Lockhartt Junioooor! For he isss underwearlessssssss!" sang Lupin mournfully. 

       "… YOU ALL!" screamed Lockhart Junior. "Damnit, pay attention! No, not down there! Goddamit!" He muttered something indistinct and his robes were repaired, blocking his privates from view. 

       Draco Malfoy smirked, and looked over at Pansy Parkinson, who apparently had been gaping at Lockhart Junior's unmentionable body parts. She'd looked extremely disappointed when he'd repaired his robes, and this horrified Draco. "PANSY! Stop gawking!" 

         "Yes, Draco," she crooned. "Oooh, when you yell at me.. it's such a turn-on… shall we go play.. _cards_ somewhere?"

         "Yes, let's," Malfoy agreed, smirking. "It's so much fun to rip off Caddyshack." They were about to go off when Lupin blocked them.

         "We're about to do this, so there's no time for that!" snapped Lupin.

         Voldemort finally took the time to speak up. "Excuse me," he hissed in his most poisonous voice. "Aren't we supposed to be touching the Portkey, oh say, in about fourteen seconds?" 

         "Oh, yes, that's right!" said Lockhart Junior. "Oh, dear me! Oh! I need my powderpuff! Where's a powderpuff when you need one?"

         "Which one's the portkey?" asked Neville frantically. He looked down at an unused cigarette and a used tire.

         "Oh! Which one is it?" Hermione asked, looking worried.. 

          "The cigarette, maybe?"

         "No, that's too small!"

         "Ah-hem, that's mine," Snape cried, rushing forward and picking up the cigarette. 

         "You _smoke?!_" screeched Birius.

         "Yes, well, you don't know me, do you?" said Snape scathingly.

          "Actually, I thought I did-" Sirius started to say, but Lupin poked Sirius in his ribs. "Um. Whatever."  

         "THE PORTKEY! TOUCH IT!" screamed Lockhart Junior. He'd started daydreaming and only just now snapped back into reality. "BY THE WAY, NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO SPEAK DURING THE TRIP, OR THEY'RE IMMEDIATELY DISQUALIFIED! HAVE A NICE DAY!"

         Everyone dove onto the moldy tire.

         And for a moment, nothing happened. They all gazed at each other for a second, and then they were yanked through wild, swirling colors at seemingly millions of miles per hour.

         Then something yanked them again and they were thrown onto hard, dusty ground.  And it was nighttime now.

         "Oww, fuck, what is that?!" Draco snarled. "My hand's in something!"

         "I can't see a thing, it's completely dark!" cried Ron. 

         "Let me get a fire out," cried Lupin. Everyone listened as Lupin rummaged through his robes for his wand.

         "Come on, hurry it up," cried George and Fred. 

         "Wait.. good lord, my wand's not here!" cried Lupin, dismayed.

         "You don't have your wand?" gasped Hermione. "Wait… I don't have mine!"

         "Neither do I," exclaimed Harry.

         Suddenly, someone screamed and an animal could be heard snarling.

         "Help! Help! Bitsy's trying to tear out my hamstring!" cried Neville's voice. 

         "NEVILLE!" 

         "BLIMEY! IT'S HIS KOMODO DRAGON!"

         "Why in _God's_ name did you two get that idiot boy a Komodo dragon?!" raged Snape, turning his head about in the darkness to glare at an unseen Fred and George. 

         _Suddenly, they all faded into blackness and Gilderoy Lockhart Junior's head came into view. "And now we'll return to these, after these words from our sponsors! 'Magical Injury Nekisia Potion- Good for ailments! Used by recovering Gilderoy Lockhart Senior for his head injury after falling off a broom!' 'And now… Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, we've got a new flavor just out- fresh mold… all the rage.. Buy it now!'……."___

__

_**** ___


	3. Episode Two: The Rules.

The Wizard Survivor Show 

**EPISODE TWO**

          "Well, welcome back to the Wizard Survivor Show! And now, it's just me, Vincent De Nicholson, doing the pre-show commentary. Sad to say, Thomas is no longer with us, we had to put him down, or he'd have attempted to impregnate everyone upon sight! Getting back on track, last week, the Survivors finally arrived at their destination amidst a medley of confusion, and they've just started to figure out their wands are gone, thanks to a useful spell that takes away wands during Apparating! And now, they're in their first mess- Neville's Komodo Dragon is attempting to kill them! What will we see the Survivors face next?"

         Vincent's face faded out of sight and into blackness.  And then the cries of the Survivors could be heard.

         Neville was screaming his head off. 

         Harry was wandering around blindly. He bumped into someone.

         "Oh, is that you, Draco, darling?" Pansy's voice crooned. Harry yelped as Pansy groped at his genitals. 

         "PANSY! GET YOUR HAND OFF_!_" Harry hollered, turning and running away in the opposite direction. 

         "We need to help Neville, the Komodo's gonna kill him!" cried Hermione, panicked.

         "Calm down, everyone! Calm!" cried Lupin. "This isn't going to help our situation an-"

         "MY WAND'S GONE!" roared Snape. 

         "**SILENCE!" **screamed Voldemort at the top of his lungs. Voldemort couldn't possibly be any more intimidating when he was mad and yelled at the same time.  

         Everyone shut up. Even the Komodo dragon.

         "Thank you, Voldemort. Normally, I wouldn't be thanking you, but we're all in a pretty bad situation," said Sirius dryly. "I've come to the conclusion that none of us have our wands."

         There was a chorus of angry cries. "THEY DIDN'T TELL US THAT THEY'D TAKE OUR WANDS!"

         Suddenly, a brilliant point of light appeared in the air, and it transformed into a glowing apparition of Lockhart Junior's head. Now, they could see each other, and also, most unfortunately, what Crabbe and Goyle were doing.

         Somehow, they had managed to put the Komodo dragon under submission and were taking turns raping it. 

         "Ewwwww!" chorused everyone, even Voldemort. "That's fucking disgusting!" 

         Neville was sobbing hysterically. "Poor Bitsy.. poor Bitsy.. poor Bitsy!"

         "If I had my wand," muttered Lupin, "I'd put that thing out of its misery."

         "As would I," said Snape acidly. "I can't believe two of my students would sink so low as to that.."

         Sirius snickered.

         Snape blanched. "I know that snicker! Sirius!" he snarled.

         "I'm not Sirius.. I'm Birius! There's a big difference!" replied Sirius innocently. Harry and Ron grinned.

         "Then what's that sticking out of your pocket?" Snape hissed. In one swift move, he had rushed forward and snatched a photograph sticking out of Sirius's pocket. And his face blanched again, as he stared at the picture with wide, horrified eyes.

         "Give that back!" Sirius yelled, leaping forward and successfully retrieving his picture. Snape gave an animal-like snarl and grabbed Sirius around the neck, and attempted to choke him. 

         The photo slipped out of Snape's grip and floated to the ground. Hermione quietly picked it up, then began to snicker as she averted her eyes from the picture to Snape. She nudged Harry, who looked at the picture. He sniggered as well, and nudged Ron, who then in turn viewed the picture. All of them sniggered. No one else noticed. The picture then flew out of Hermione's hand, forever gone with the wind. "Dammit! I was gonna blackmail you with that, Snape," whined Sirius.

          Everyone stared in amazement as Snape advanced on Sirius, and punched Sirius in his nose.

          "Ow! You soddy git!" muttered Sirius, rubbing his nose. He seemed momentarily dazed, then a smirk manifested itself at the corners of his mouth. "You're in for it now,_ Snape."_ He rushed forward and picked up Snape and tossed him effortlessly over his shoulder. 

Snape landed hard on the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him. For a moment, he just remained flat on his back, eyes glazed over. Then he swiftly sat up. Snape had dust sticking to his greasy locks, which only added more to the filthy effect of his hair. "I'm going to hurt you, you.. you.. bastard!" 

         Sirius smirked. "I've been waiting for this for a very long time…" He took off his robe, revealing himself in just trousers and leather boots.

         Hermione and Pansy goggled at shirtless Sirius. Their eyes widened as they surveyed his perfect six-pack abs, his rippling biceps, his muscular chest.

         "Hermione!" cried Fred, noticing her rapt expression. "Stop that!"

         "Pansy!" snapped Draco. "Stop that! You're supposed to pay attention to only me!" He grabbed Pansy's hands and put them up his shirt. "Aren't you happy now?" 

          "Yes.. Draco…" she simpered. 

         Snape paled a little as he saw the very muscular, shirtless Sirius standing over him, but a sneer appeared on his mouth, and he got up and flew at Sirius. Sirius made a blindingly fast move and the next thing everyone knew, he had Snape in a headlock. 

          "How you like that, Snape? Huh? You like that, huh? This'll get you back for the time you put sleeping potion in my goblet at Halloween so you'd get to dance with Narcissa instead of me! She was my girlfriend, dammit!"

          "What? You dated my mother?!" Malfoy screamed at Sirius. "MY MOTHER?!"

          "Yes, she is your mother, isn't she? That's a shame you had to come from her," Sirius scowled. 

          "ARGH! BASTARD!" Malfoy screamed, leaping forward and forcing a dismayed Pansy to stop fondling him.

          In another instant, Sirius had both Malfoy and Snape in headlocks. "How do you like that, huh?" he snickered. Then in his most nonchalant voice, he asked Harry: "Could you beat up Malfoy for me while I take care of Severus?"

          "Sure!" Harry replied gleefully.

         "Can I help?" Ron asked eagerly.

         "Sure!" 

          "Owww!" Snape squealed. Sirius was in the process of giving him a wizard wedgie. He had a very good grip on Snape's underwear and was busy trying to get it up into the crack of Snape's much-in-need-of-a-tan posterior. "SIRIUS! _OW_! STOP THAT!" Snape cried pitifully.

          "You like that, huh? Huh?" Sirius yelled. He released the undies, which snapped back onto Snape's tush painfully.   
  


"OW! FUCK! SIRIUS! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" 

Sirius giggled gleefully and balled his hand into a fist, and rubbed it into Snape's head. "Like that, huh? You like that?" he yelled. Then a split second later-

"Ewww, Birius, oh hell, we're all going to find out who he is anyway," Remus muttered, throwing up his hands. "Sirius, don't do that! His head's all nasty!" cringed Remus.

Sirius stopped giving Snape a noogie and looked at his fist, horrified. It was covered in slick grease from Snape's hair. "Oh, god, I've been soiled!" he wailed. 

The scene that befell everyone's eyes at that very moment was pandemonium, indeed.

Ron and Harry were busy beating a sobbing Malfoy up. Crabbe and Goyle were napping. The Komodo Dragon, Bitsy, was in shock from being raped. Hermione looked stricken with panic. Remus simply stood, looking intently at Sirius and Snape. Voldemort was muttering sinisterly to himself. Fred and George were discussing something in low voices. Neville was still crying. And Pansy Parkinson was looking very dismayed, as she had no male genitals to fondle as of current. 

Snape wrenched out of Sirius's grip and then grabbed a handful of Sirius's clean, healthy, black hair. 

"AYAAAAARRRRRRGH!" screamed Sirius. He put his hands around Snape's neck. And Snape did the same to Sirius. They both made gasping, strangled sounds as they choked each other viciously. 

"Sirius?" asked Lupin worriedly. "Um, you're going to kill each other."

"He's- not- I'll-kill-him-ugh-first-" gasped Sirius, his face becoming rather blue. Everyone goggled at Sirius and Snape. They were both turning blue in the face. And it was quite surprising to see Snape with a blue face- his skin was never anything else than sallow-toned. 

Snape attempted to say something, but all that came out of his mouth were guttural noises. 

"I think he's trying to say that he means to kill Sirius too," said Hermione, shrugging. 

"Ever the decider of present matters," replied Ron.

"It does seem they mean to kill each other," sighed Remus. He shook his head. "They're such wonderful friends, aren't they?" he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look at how wonderfully they play with each other… perchance they're really in love with each other… one never knows."

Loud choking noises both came from Snape and Sirius in response to this.

"Ahoy, there! May I have everyone's attention?" called a voice amidst the uproar. 

No one heard the voice, that voice which came from the sky. 

"AHOY THERE! MAY I HAVE EVERYONE'S ATTENTION?" hollered the heaven-originated voice.

Finally, everyone looked up. Snape and Sirius kept their hands clutched around each other's throats, but they looked up as well. It was an apparition of Lockhart Junior's head, smiling brightly at them with his dazzling teeth. Those dazzling teeth made them all extremely pissed off. 

"What the fuck do you want?" Sirius said in a strangled voice. 

"Now, now, let's not use that language! Ok, we must present the show now. We're going to divide you into two tribes, seven person to a tribe!"

"Tribes? _TRIBES?_ _WHAT ARE WE, ABORIGINES?_" screamed Draco. "_I'M NOT GOING TO BE IN A BLOODY TRIBE!_" 

"YES, YOU ARE! THAT'S A RULE, AND NO ONE'S GOING TO DISOBEY ANY RULES!" 

"WELL, I'M ABOVE THE RULES!" screeched Draco, puffing out his chest in an effort to look manly. Ron punched him immediately in the solar plexus, and Draco gave a low moan, slumping to the floor. 

"Thanks, Ron," muttered Harry. 

"Anyway," continued Lockhart Junior. "The first tribe is called Ominana and the second is Bomanina!"

"What kind of idiot names are those?" Pansy screeched. "Those names don't have anything sexy about them. Like.. Draco.. oh, how I love to fondle his privvys.."

"Pansy?" said Hermione. 

"What?" snapped Pansy.

"Shut up, for the love of everything that's ever existed in the theorism of existentialism! You skank, don't you realize there's more to the world than.. doing.. ugh… that, you skank?" 

Pansy understood none of what Hermione had just stated except the last word. "Skank? How dare you call me a skank? You bitch!" 

"You- you-" Hermione gasped. She'd never been called a bitch to her face. She and Pansy glared at each other for one tense moment, as everyone watching, holding their breaths. Then they flew at each other, spitting and screaming like rabid cats. 

"Oh.. my.. god.. who is that, and what did she do with Hermione?" gasped Ron. 

Hermione had her teeth plunged into Pansy's calf, and making screaming noises at the same time, while gripping huge handfuls of Pansy's blonde hair. Pansy did her full share. She was pulling Hermione's nose upwards with her fingernails and attempting to break her wrists. And they did far worse things too. And they screamed horrid, offensive names, far too offensive to be listed.

Finally, George and Fred dove in, trying to pull the two apart, but they might as well as have tried to pull two rabid, blood-lusting bulldogs apart. It took all the might of George, Fred, Lupin, Harry, and Ron to pull the two apart. And they had to be kept separately by force. Fred and George had Hermione tightly by the arms, while Lupin and Sirius held Pansy. 

          "Dammit, Lockhart! You could at least help us out by shutting them up!" yelled Harry. 

          Lockhart Junior rolled his eyes and brought a wand into view. He pointed it at Hermione, and said, "_Quietus!_" Suddenly, Hermione's enraged cries disappeared-her voice was gone. Then he did the same to Pansy. They both looked up at him, enraged, and then settled into a new routine of giving each other the finger. 

          "Ah, that's so much better," sighed George, still keeping a good grip on Hermione. 

          "Yes, well, now let's try to summarize what's going to happen," said Lockhart quickly. "Now, the seven people who are going to be on the Ominana tribe are: Gregory Goyle, Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, Vincent Crabbe, and Pansy Parkinson." 

          Harry turned whiter than sheets. Every person he'd been assigned with was his enemy!

          "And the ones on the Bomanina tribe are: Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, George Weasley, Fred Weasley, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Birius Slack." 

          Sirius sighed. "I've got to make a confession, dear Lockhart. I'm not Birius Slack. I'm really… _Sirius Black_!" 

          "Omigod! SIRIUS BLACK!" Junior screamed.

          "But, I'm innocent, it's no biggie," said Sirius, flipping his hand.

          "Well, even though you're a convicted murderer who hasn't been cleared yet, you can't be disqualified from the show just because of that, right?" said Hermione.

          "Aww.. you're right," said Lockhart Junior in a disappointed voice. 

          "Harry!" cried Ron. "Are you ok?" He ran to Harry, who was on the ground in a dead faint. "Harry! Come on, wake up!" 

          Harry opened his eyes and moaned. "Ron? I had a terrible dream, I was in the Ominana tribe and everyone else in it were Slytherins."

          "That wasn't a dream," whispered Ron. "It was real."

          "OH, BUGGER!" yelled Harry. "YOU BASTARD! YOU DID THIS TO ME! YOU SET ME UP!" he hollered up at Lockhart Junior.

          Lockhart Junior looked terrified. "No, I didn't! They were all randomly selected!"

          Sirius coughed something that sounded suspiciously derisive.  

          Malfoy scowled up at Lockhart Junior. "I don't want to be on a team with Potter! Anyone but that!"

          "I'm a 'that'? Not a 'him'?" said Harry in a mock-hurt voice. He glared at Malfoy. 

          "Sorry, but rules are rules," smiled Lockhart Junior.

         "If I had my wand, I'd kill you!" 

         "Too bad, you wanker."

         "YOU BASTARD!" 

         "Ok, before we have fun name-calling each other some more, I'd like to go over the basis of the first challenge. You are to walk ten miles in the night darkness, with all of these items-" he gestured to a huge pile of clutter about 20 feet away- "any one of those things, as much as you can carry. And you will each go to your separate sites. Here are two maps, and don't worry about having light to read them, they're glow-in-the-dark. That's your first challenge, to reach your camp!" 

          And Lockhart Junior disappeared with a pop, drenching them all in darkness once more.

          Silence reigned for one long, still moment. 

          Then it was broken from moans that awfully sounded like they were coming from Pansy.

          "What… is.. that?" hissed Lupin.

          "Don't ask. I don't want to know," whispered Harry. 

          Everyone else quickly agreed, and they all sighed heavily, as two maps hung in midair in front of them, glowing just as Lockhart said they would be. 

          ***

_ "Most sorry! We're taking a break to take a listen to our sponsors!" _


	4. More Episode Two: Werewolves and snoggin...

The Wizard Survivor Show

**CONTINUATION OF EPISODE TWO: BACK FROM THESE MESSAGES OF OUR SPONSORS!**

"Vincent De Nicholson here! Just making a quick summary of those of you who may have started watching halfway through this show! It's a terrible mess, indeed, and they have been put into groups, and now they face their first challenge! The challenge for them is: 'Find your campsite by trekking through ten miles of raw wilderness at nighttime with only a glow-in-the-dark map to help you and 500 pounds of rubbish to carry along as well!'" said Vincent cheerfully. 

            The camera showed him fading into blackness, and then the voices of the survivors could be heard.

***

         "Well, I guess we ought to get in our groups," said Remus. "Come on, Sirius, let's round everyone up." 

         Hermione, Ron, the Weasley twins, Neville, and Sirius walked up to Lupin and they began to talk in low whispers. Suddenly, Harry came running up and looked at them wildly. 

         "You have got to help me! They put me with all the Slytherins!" gasped Harry. 

         "I know, I'm going to kill that Lockhart Junior when I meet him in person, ok?" snarled Sirius. "First, I'll _accio_ his little dick right off and-" he raged, but Lupin cut him off.

         "Sirius, now's not the time," Lupin said gently. 

         "What? He's with those.. evil gits! Voldemort, who wants to kill him! Snape, who probably wants to kill him too! And Lucius Malfoy's son! And.. that Pansy! Have you noticed she's got an obsession with genitals?! I'm afraid she'll go prowling at nighttime and exploit us while we're asleep!" Sirius sobbed. He turned to Harry, and gripped him by the shoulders. "I'm your godfather, and I have to protect you! Plus, Snape's got all that grease in his hair, it's probably full of dangerous, contagious agents and bugs and stuff!" 

          "Sirius, calm down. They don't have their wands, so they really can't do anything to Harry. Besides, there's probably something in the rules about harming members of their own tribes," said Hermione, patting Sirius on his back. 

          Fred and George were staring at Sirius with absolute rapt. "Man, we can't believe you're Sirius Black! Bugger! And that way you did Snape- that wedgie was incredible! Can you teach us how to do that?" 

          A pop resonated through the air, and the disembodied voice of Gilderoy Lockhart Junior snapped, "HARRY! Get back to your tribe now! Associating with the enemy tribe is FORBIDDEN!" 

          Sirius scowled and gave the finger to the air, intending it at Lockhart Junior. "Bugger off." 

         Harry looked mournfully at the Bomanina tribe. They all looked back with equally mournful looks. Then Harry turned around and slunk towards the Ominana tribe. 

         "About time," Snape said acidly. 

         "Stop being so acid! You've been acid enough today! And don't make it any worse for me!" screamed Harry. 

         They all stared at him with malice and dislike.

         "You know, boy," hissed Voldemort, "after this, I'm going to kill you. I've got a plan."

         Harry rolled his eyes. "Four times you've tried to kill me. _Four _times you failed!" 

         "Ah, that doesn't count," Voldemort muttered.

         Harry began to insult Voldemort, since he lacked a wand, and thus, the means to kill him. He hadn't counted on the multiple pairs of fists that abounded in his tribe. 

          "Loossssserrr!" Harry began.

          "Silence!" Voldemort snapped. 

          "Looooooserrrrr!"

          "You're going to be sorry!"

          "Looooooserrrr!" Harry repeated, but the next thing he knew, he had been punched in the stomach. Draco Malfoy had taken the opportunity to punch Harry while he was busy trying to piss off the Dark Lord.

          "Oww…" groaned Harry. 

          Crabbe and Goyle snickered.

          "So, Professor Snape, what exactly are we supposed to do?" whined Pansy. "Can I fondle your genitals?"   
  


          "No, you may not!" hissed Snape.

         "What about you?" Pansy whimpered, looking at Voldemort, who widened his eyes and backed away, looking fearful. 

         "PANSY!" screamed Malfoy. "If you don't stop that, then I won't knock you up anymore!" 

          "Aww.." said Pansy morosely.

          "Anyway, I believe we are supposed to carry as much rubbish as we can from that pile," Snape said, pointing to a huge pile of rubbish, "and then try to find our campsite."

          "Who's going to carry it?" grumbled Voldemort. "I sure as hell ain't doing no damn labor," he muttered, suddenly taking on a Yankee accent. 

          "Crabbe and Goyle can!" chirped Malfoy.  "And Potter," he added, smirking with relish.

          They all looked menacingly at Harry. 

          "Damn you all," muttered Harry.               

          Soon, they were trekking through the darkness, with Snape and Voldemort leading the way, Draco and Pansy in the middle, who were passionately snogging each other, and Crabbe, Goyle, and Harry at the back, who were carrying five hundred pounds of rubbish. Snape and Voldemort were attempting to read the glow-in-the-dark map. 

          "What is that?" snapped Snape, looking at some weird squiggles on the map. 

          "I don't know," muttered Snape. "Oh, here's a key! Ah… it says.. Snake Alley."

          "Snakes! My kind of people!" said Voldemort delightedly. Then it was as if a light bulb had switched on in Voldemort's head. "Severus Snape? Didn't you drop out on us?" 

          "Um, no, of course not!" stammered Snape. He knew Voldemort was referring to the Death Eaters.

          "Are you trying to fuck around with me?" hissed Voldemort, flashing his crimson eyes at Snape, who tried desperately not to pee in his pants. But, alas, Snape failed. 

          "I would never! I knew you were hanging around, just waiting for you to come back! And you know, I was all with that guy, Dumbledore, just pretending to be all goodie-goodie. Don't you believe me?!" screamed Snape, with his fingers crossed behind his back. 

          "Hmm.. alright. You know, if I had my wands with you, I'd be putting you under the Cruciatus curse just for good ol' times sake!" guffawed Voldemort. 

          "Oh, yeah, that'd be awesome!" replied Snape, the back of his robes soaked with nervous sweat. 

          ***

          The Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, and Lupin trudged along their own way to the campsite. Lupin had the map, and he was studying it intently.

          Sirius was the primary giver of complains. "Bloody hell! How in all of bloody hell do they expect us to find bloody anything on that bloody map? This is bloody impossible! AND I DON'T BLOODY ENJOY CARRYING BLOODY THINGS!" He was carrying about a hundred pounds of uncooked rice. 

          "I think you've overused the term 'bloody'," replied Remus mildly. 

          "Hey, where's Neville?" asked Hermione worriedly.

          Everyone looked around frantically. They did not see Neville.

         "NEVILLE!" cried George and Fred. "Oh, dear, god, we've lost him! Oh, bugger!" 

         "I'll find him," said Sirius. He transformed into a shaggy dog with a pop.

         "COOL! YOU'RE AN ANIMAGUS!" chorused George and Fred. 

         "Yeah, yeah, big news," muttered Ron. 

         Sirius bounded off into the darkness. A few minutes later, they heard him howling and barking frantically.

          "Something's wrong!" Hermione said immediately. 

         Ron and Lupin ran forward towards the sounds of Sirius, and what they saw next was truly horrible. 

          Bitsy the Komodo Dragon seemed to have had a mental breakdown, and there was a mad look to him. He was growling and snapping his teeth and attempting to hump everything. And Neville was up in a tree, sobbing hysterically. "S-s-s-ave m-m-m-me!!" he wailed in his most pitiful voice. Not even Victor Hugo could have described the state of misery that Neville was residing in. 

          "Hold on, Neville! Sirius, can you take him down?" 

          The giant dog looked at Lupin and nodded in reply. He attempted to corner the giant lizard, but the lizard darted forward and grabbed Sirius around the neck with his jaws, and dragged him away into the darkness.

          "NO! SIRIUS!" Lupin cried. 

          And suddenly, the cries of Sirius came to Ron and Lupin's ears. "OH MY GOD! BITSY'S TRYING TO RAPE ME!" 

          "Shite! Where's our wands when we need them?!" muttered Ron.

          "That bloody fuck Lockhart Junior has them!" raged Lupin. "We've gotta do something!"

          Hermione came running up, her eyes bugging out in a terrified way. "THE MOON!" 

          "The moon? The moon-" exclaimed Lupin with surprise. "There's no full moon! Is there?"

          "Yeah, but here.. there is.. we're in Australia now! It's coming up over the horizon!" 

          And indeed, the full moon was rising. They looked, and a line of silver light was coming up over the horizon.. and it rose, and rose.. and it was the full moon. And as the light descended upon them all, Lupin began to groan loudly. Hermione and Ron gasped as they heard bones crunch. Thick hair spread on Remus's face. His face was elongating. 

          "RUN! RUN! DAMN YOU, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" yelled Remus, while he still retained use of his vocal chords. 

          Hermione and Ron ran. They ran like they never ran before. And they ran into Fred and George Weasley, who immediately interrogated them. "What's wrong?" 

          "JUST RUN! LUPIN JUST TRANSFORMED!" howled Hermione. 

          "Into what?"

          "WEREWOLF!" screeched Ron.

          "OH MERLIN!" chorused the twins. And they all ran as if their lives depended on it, and it did. 

*** 

          The Ominana tribe was trudging along slowly. Voldemort and Snape were exchanging knock-knock jokes, and they were laughing like drunk fools.  

          "Hey, Voldy, knock-knock!" giggled Snape.

          "Who's there?" snickered Voldemort. 

          "Boo!" exclaimed Snape, who collapsed into fits of giggles.

          "Boo-who?" gasped Voldemort, crying with laughter.

          "DON'T CRY!" roared Snape, sobbing with laughter.

          They both guffawed loudly, crying with mirth.  

          "Knock knock, Snape!" exclaimed Voldemort.

          "Who's there?" 

          "Gorilla!" 

          "Gorilla who?"

          "Gorilla me an American cheese sandwich!"

          And they both burst into hysterical laughter again.

          Suddenly, a distant howling reached their ears.

          "What's that?" mumbled Draco, who was lip-locked with Pansy. "Sounds like.."

          "That's the cry of a werewolf," said the Dark Lord in a know-it-all voice. 

          "Oh, my, god," gasped Harry, who was carrying a bunch of extremely heavy boards. "Lupin!" 

          "Yes, that's right, Lupin's a werewolf. I did manage to spread that around a couple of years ago.. And the moon, blast, it's coming up!" Snape yelped. 

          "What time is it?" groaned Crabbe. 

          "It's.. it should be dawn in a few hours!" Snape said.

          "Come on, Draco.." they heard Pansy moan. "Do you like that?" 

          Harry grimaced. The load he was carrying was bad enough…

          "Pansy, ok, enough. I'm getting sick of that!" Draco snapped, pushing Pansy away, who immediately started to cry. 

          "DRACO DOESN'T LOVE ME! I HATE YOU ALL! AND YOU ALL HAVE LOUSY GOOLIES!" 

          "Thank god she hasn't attempted to handle us yet," grumbled Voldemort. A tic went off in Snape's eye at this. 

          "Let's hurry up, we must be almost there," whispered Snape.

         Two hours later, they were still trudging along, all of them groaning with pain. Harry was white as a sheet, and sweating like a hippogryff. His glasses were slipping down his nose further and further.. and he was having a hard time keeping his grip on the boards and junk that he was being forced to carry. His back was killing him, and it felt like he was carrying a lot more weight than he had when they'd started. 

          "Careful, Potter, you're tipping me over," said a drawling voice. 

          Harry gasped. He was carrying Malfoy on top of the boards.

          "MALFOY!" Harry couldn't think of a good enough insult, the poor dear was exhausted. "GET OFF ME!" Harry bellowed.

          "Careful, careful, or you're going to be the first one voted out," he smirked.

          "You can't vote me out, I'm the only one here who knows how to survive like a Muggle!" 

          Everyone in the Omanina tribe groaned as they realized Harry was right. 

           Finally, the sun came peeping up over the horizon, and pink rays of light stained the sky. Rays of hopes. Rays of confirmation they wouldn't be eaten by a rabid were-wolf.

          "Finally," muttered Snape. "What the…?" he exclaimed, looking at the map, and at the surroundings. They were walking in some kind of barren field. "We're totally off course!"

          "We're supposed to be over there!" Voldemort snapped, pointing at the map. "Half mile to east!" 

          And they turned towards the east, towards the rising sun, walking the final half-mile towards the camp.

          "Goddamit, why'd it take us so long to walk 9 ½ kilometres?" cried Draco, enraged. 

          "Appears we've been walking around in circles," growled Voldemort. He glared at Snape.

          "What are you glaring at me for? You're the one who got us into circles!" snapped Snape.

          "Oh, well, fuck you, you're wrong!"

          "FUCK YOU!"

         "I'd rather not," hissed Voldemort. He smirked at the taken-aback look on Snape's face.

***

           _And now we take a break from their potty-mouth language; as since this hour is up! Join us next week for our next episode of Wizard Survivor!_

_***_


	5. Episode Three: Lupin the loin-cloth man...

The Wizard Survivor Show

EPISODE THREE

"Hello, all you friendly people! Vincent De Nicholson here, commentating again! Welcome to our third episode of _Wizard Survivor_! And now, to sum up events from last week, we last saw Remus Lupin transforming into a werewolf and bounding off into the darkness, a missing Sirius Black; a Neville Longbottom trapped in the high branches of a tree, a transformed Sirius Black being violated by Bitsy the Komodo Dragon, and Hermione, Ron, and the Weasley twins on the run for their lives! What will happen? What will we see occur? Will they all survive the trek to their campsites? Will they all reach the campsites with all their original limbs still attached? Did Bitsy the Komodo Dragon actually molest poor Sirius?" sobbed Vincent De Nicholson. "I love Sirius… I really do… after seeing him shirtless with all those rippling muscles…" 

         "You're…!" shouted a random person.

         "Yes, I confess it!" bawled Vincent De Nicholson. "Well… not really, but Sirius is the only guy that I've ever liked, honestly!" 

         "START THE SHOW! START THE SHOW!" hollered another random person who was in no mood to listen to Vincent's life story.

          And a bawling Vincent De Nicholson sucking his thumb faded away into darkness… and the beautiful image of a vivid sunrise came into view. 

         "At last!" gasped Hermione. "Sunrise!" 

         "Dawn!" gasped Ron.

         "Daybreak!" sighed Fred.

         "Daylight!" groaned George, clutching a stitch in his side. "Bugger, my side hurts!" 

         "Well, we've been running for about two hours, thus that'd apply to the rest of us as well, so don't complain!" snipped Hermione. 

         "What could have happened to Sirius?" asked Ron. "Is he ok?"

         "No.. I don't know," replied Hermione.

         They surveyed what was around them, and saw a big sign about a hundred feet away. It consisted of a ridiculous picture depicting a kangaroo nestled in a wizard's arms. The phrase "_WIZARD SURVIVOR" _was emblazed above the wizard and the kangaroo. To the survivors' amazement, the kangaroo's expression of content disappeared, and it jumped up and kicked the hapless wizard in the face, knocking several of his teeth out of his mouth. Then the kangaroo bounded out of sight in the sign.

         "Owch," Fred exclaimed, gazing at the sign with the bloody-mouthed wizard. 

         "If that's what the kangeroo around here are like, then we need to bloody get out of here," said George..

         ***

_Elsewhere_

          Sirius woke up, and saw a pair of gaping dead eyes staring into his own. He uttered a piercing, girlish scream and hollered, "GET AWAY FROM ME!" whilst shoving whatever was hanging in front of him away. He started to get up and was about to run for his life, but something thwacked against him, knocking him down. 

         He yelled out of shock again as a bloodied corpse flew towards him, about to hit him again. However, in mid-air, the thing fell down and hit the ground with a sickening thump. "What the?" Sirius said, surprised. Upon closer examination, Sirius saw that it was the corpse of Bitsy the Komodo Dragon. 

"Oh, blimey, thank god we don't have to deal with that creature anymore! Wait.. what happened… what happened last night?" he asked himself wildly, as he noticed that Bitsy seemed to have been severely mangled and mauled. This was just like the one time he had that hangover and he couldn't remember why he was sleeping on the roof of his neighbor's chicken farm, wearing nothing but boxers with smiley-faces on them. 

         "Bitsy was attempting to violate you last night. I, however, being in werewolf form, and.. um.. I made little bit of a snack out of Komodo Dragon. It was quite delicious, I'd never sampled lizard meat before," said a voice behind him. 

          Sirius yelped in surprise again. He whipped around, and saw nothing but thick brush. "Who's there?"

         "You don't recognize the voice of one of your fellow Mauraders? Damn you." 

         "Moony! Ol' friend!" Sirius cried. "Ol' pal! Ol' buddy, dear, dear friend!" 

         "Don't give me that bull," replied Lupin in a joking manner. 

         "Uh, why don't you come out now?" asked Sirius.

         "Has it been so long that your memory's become rusted?" sighed Lupin from somewhere in the brush. "I.. eh, tend to dispose…of my clothes, when I transform. In short, my clothes rip to shreds when I become the size of a pony, goddamit! So.. right now, I'm in the manner to pose for Michaelango Da Vinci."

         "Oh, of course, silly me!" laughed Sirius, smacking himself on the forehead. "Need some clothes? By the way, that'd be Leonardo Da Vinci."

         "Oh, shut up." 

         "Clothes?"

         "Yes."

         "Uh.. I don't have any extras with me.." said Sirius, wincing. Then a lit-up expression appeared on Sirius's face. "Ooo! I know! I can rip part of my robes off and you can somehow wrap it around you!" he said excitedly, as if his idea was the most brilliant one in all of history.  

         Ten minutes later, Sirius and Lupin were walking side-by-side. Lupin was red in the face. "I feel exposed!" he whined. "I look like an idiot!" 

         Sirius had no knife or anything to slash his robes into decently sized strips. Instead, he had to rip them by hand, and had ended up with a pile of mostly useless scraps of cloth, with only a few that were "moderately" sized. Lupin had taken the "moderately sized" shreds of cloth and wrapped them around his middle, like one would wrap a turban around his head. Poor Lupin looked like he was wearing a hideous, bulky, and ugly loincloth. 

                   Sirius snorted loudly, trying desperately not to dissolve into mirthful laughter. Lupin looked at him menacingly. "Are you laughing at me?!" he inquired sharply. "If you are, you're going to get a big bite on your posterior! And I won't wait until the next full moon to do it!"

                   "Oh, no, of course not, dear Remus!" replied Sirius in a voice higher than normal. Lupin sighed and shook his head. 

         "How can I expect you not to laugh? If you were in my situation, then I'd be, eh, in hysterical fits."

          "Okay, then!" Sirius chirped. He started laughing hysterically.

          "Aw, come on now, Padfoot," muttered Remus. Sirius just continued to laugh like a crazed hyena. 

         After about ten minutes, when Sirius had laughed himself into tears, with Lupin looking on impatiently, Sirius croaked, "We need to find Hermione and the Weasleys.. they're probably worried about us." 

         "True," agreed Lupin. "Let's go." 

         "I'll transform, so I can smell the kids," said Sirius. 

         "I'll try to keep up." 

         And soon, Lupin was running after a giant black dog into the brush, cursing every time he tripped over a tree root or stubbed his big toes.

         In less than an hour, they came onto a sandy riverbank, and saw a brilliant, neon-green sign that had "_WIZARD SURVIVOR_" emblazoned upon it, with a picture of a bloody-mouthed wizard. 

         Sirius gave several loud barks, and Lupin, who was coming up behind Sirius, panting and sweating heavily, called, "AHOY, THERE!"

         "SIRIUS?! PROFESSOR LUPIN?!" cried the shrill voice of Hermione. They saw Hermione, Fred, George, and Ron running towards them. They stopped suddenly, and Hermione, Ron, and the Weasley twins, looked uneasily at Lupin in his loincloth.

Then, deciding they didn't give a damn about Lupin being in a loincloth, they all embraced Lupin and Sirius.

         "Aw! I feel so loved!" crooned Sirius. 

         Hermione suddenly turned a pasty-white color. "_Where's NEVILLE?!"_

         They all started to panic and scream hysterically, but in less than a minute, Neville came running out of the brush towards them, blinded with tears. 

         "I want my Trevor!" screamed Neville. "And fuck you two, Fred and George, you killed him! You owe me a new one, dammit!" 

         Everyone gasped. They'd never heard Neville talk like this. 

         "Uh.. here!" Fred exclaimed, handing Neville about thirty galleons that he'd had stowed away in his pocket.

         "Thank you," said Neville, who turned away so no one could see him smirking. 

****

                   "By the dark powers!" exclaimed Voldemort. "We're here! We're here!" he cried, looking at a brilliant blue sign with the words "Wizard Survivor" upon it, and a picture of a kangaroo, who was napping peacefully upon a dead wizard that looked badly beaten up. 

          "Yes, finally," panted Snape. "And the sand's already burning hot, all that heat coming off it! Is there any sun block with the supplies?" he asked anxiously.  

          It was about 10:00 in the morning, and it was already starting to get hot. Poor Harry was nearly dead from fatigue, and as soon as they'd gotten to their campsite, he'd thrown everything to the ground and staggered to a tree about fifty feet away and immediately passed out. 

          "Ah, excellent, he's out of the way for now," drawled Malfoy. "So, Prof, what do we do now?"

          "We need to set up some kind of shelter," Snape replied. "I'm going get burned!"

         Snape with his sallow skin and Voldemort with his white skin looked up uneasily at the blazing sun. 

         "Crabbe! Goyle!" snapped Malfoy. "Work! Now!"

         Crabbe and Goyle grunted and started lugging boards all about the place. 

         A snake came slithering up to Voldemort, whose eyes widened with delight. He began hissing to the snake in Parseltongue.

         _"Hi!" _

_          "Ahoy, matey! What ye doin' about these parts?" _

_          "Well, this is the Wizard Survivor show, we've got to do this fucking stupid stuff and bullshit," _Voldemort hissed angrily. 

                   Snape looked nervously at Voldemort, hissing angrily to the snake. '_What could he possibly be talking about?', _he wondered worriedly. '_Evil plans? Plans to murder Harry Potter? Conspiracy ideas so they can take over the planet? The theory of evolution?' _ 

         "_Ah, how hot does it get around here? My skin's burning already, for the love of Grindelwald!" _hissed Voldemort angrily.

         _"Pretty damn hot, matey. If I don't get off this sand soon, I'm going to be toast."_

_          "Oh, goodness gracious, my dear, you should get off soon, then!"_

         "_Sure! Anyhoos, if you ever need help, then me and my mates will be happy to help you out!" _

_          "Thanks!" _ hissed Voldemort. The snake slithered away. "Well," said Voldemort in normal English, "How's the shelter building going?"

          Snape jerked his head over to where Crabbe and Goyle were. They were erecting a shelter. It was shabby, but it was still a shelter. "Where's Draco and that Pansy?" asked Snape.

         "Draco's apparently putting a bird-eating tarantula on the Potter boy's chest," said Voldemort, grinning. "I like that boy. He'll make a fine Death Eater, he's doing so well already!" 

          "Yeah, sure," coughed Snape. 

         They looked over to where Harry lay unconscious. Draco was leaning over Harry, snickering insolently as he successfully prompted an enormous tarantula to crawl up onto Harry's chest. Then they looked around for Pansy, and soon spotted her. Pansy was watching a koala in a tree with a sort of perverse look in her eyes.

         "We're going to have to get rid of her," said Snape.

         "Oh, yeah… too bad I don't have my wand," muttered Voldemort. 

         "Yeah, Voldy, is it ok if I call you Voldy?" Snape asked.

         "BLOODY HELL! NO! YOU'RE GOING TO CALL ME BY MY NAME! OR LORD! OR MASTER! BUT NEVER, NEVER, EVER, VOLDY!" 

         "Okay," said Snape. "Easy."

         "Sorry… this sun is getting to me. Do I look burned to you?" he asked worriedly, gesturing to himself with his long, white fingers.

         "Uh…" gasped Snape. "Uh… no," he lied. "But we should get under that shelter, it looks about done.." he trailed off, staring at Voldemort. His horrible white, bald head and face were both starting to turn very red. 

          Snape looked at his own arm, and it too was turning a strange, reddish color. He poked it, and his skin screamed in pain. It was odd. Never before had he ever experienced the agony of sunburn, not having been in broad daylight for more than an hour in over twenty years. 

         Suddenly, the apparition of Gilderoy Lockhart Junior's head appeared in the air, smiling jovially. "Hello, Survivors!"

         Meanwhile, over in the Bominana camp, the exact same apparition had appeared, speaking the same words to the Bominana tribe at the very same time. 

         "Hello, contestants!" chirped Lockhart Junior. "Congratulations upon finding your campsite! That was the unofficial challenge! Your very first real challenge will be coming up soon! You must all set up your shelters and do your best to prepare for the new challenge. I'll be speaking with you shortly!" Then Lockhart Junior's head vanished. 

         In the Bominana tribe, everyone looked at each other worriedly, and then they set off to setting up camp. All the while, Sirius muttered about what "an annoying little git Lockhart Junior is… just like his daddy…" 

Meanwhile, in the Omanina tribe, Snape and Voldemort hurried off into the shelter, while Crabbe and Goyle stood dumbly like the stupid idiots they were. Pansy was attempting to climb up a tree after the innocent koala. Harry was still unconscious, and Draco was watching the tarantula crawl up Harry's chest, snickering. 

         _"AND THAT CONCLUDES OUR THIRD EPISODE OF WIZARD SURVIVOR! THEY HAVE REACHED THEIR CAMPSITES! BE SURE TO TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR THE FIRST OFFICIAL CHALLENGE!" _


	6. Episode Four: Adieu, Lockhart Junior!

_The Wizard Survivor Show_

**EPISODE FOUR**

Two men who were blonde and almost complete look-alikes flashed blinding smiles  at the camera. 

                    "Hello, and this is the host of _Wizard Survivor _speaking! I'm here with my father, Lockhart! He's just fully recovered from his accident on a broomstick!" chirped Lockhart Junior. 

         "Hello, it is me again! Yes, I am back in the public!" quipped Lockhart. 

         "Isn't that dandy?" twittered Lockhart Junior. 

         Someone came up to the look-alike father and son duo. The stranger glared at them menacingly, and growled, "The world's already had too much of one Lockhart. We can't deal with two of them, dannit! AVADA KEDRAVA!"

 A blinding flash of green light accompanied by a huge whooshing noise, like a jet passing over head, erupted from the wizard's wand. The next thing anyone knew, both Lockharts had keeled over in their chairs, utterly stone dead, with their eyes wide open and dazzling grins still frozen upon their faces. 

         "GAH! START THE SHOW!" screamed a director. "CUT! CUT!!!!" 

         "Okay, Miss Baker!" yelped a terrified cameraman. 

         ***

         Hermione was lying on a small scrap of cloth, barely big enough for her to sit on. She was sitting on it to avoid being scalded by the burning hot sand, which was still sizzling even though the sun had sunk to just above the horizon. She was wearing a skimpy blue bikini that was very un-Hermione. 

          "Oh, goodness, the sand's still terribly hot!" exclaimed Hermione, flapping one hand as so to bring a bit of a breeze to her neck. 

         "Yeah.." chorused Fred and George and Ron. They were all ogling at her large amount of exposed flesh. 

         She sighed and leaned back, shaking her hair. The Weasleys' mouths hung down even further.

         "Um, Hermione?" Lupin asked, coming up to her.

         "Yes, Professor?" she replied.

         "You may want to cover up a bit…" Lupin whispered, leaning over so his voice wouldn't be carried across the sandy dunes to the Weasleys. He moved his eyes over to the red-headed boys, to make it obvious to Hermione that those particular three boys were ogling at her. Hermione looked puzzled, and looked at the Weasley brothers. "Oy," she half-whispered. "Oh, god!" She nervously glanced at the Weasleys again, who were still staring at her with glazed eyes. Hermione turned bright red in the face and tried to cover up with the pathetic scrap of cloth she'd been sitting on.  

         "Just a suggestion," said Lupin suavely, leaning back up and walking back to Sirius to help him with a rather tricky board that refused to be held up.

         Sirius snarled at the board and wiped his sweating brow with the back of his hand. "Damn board! Won't stay put!" 

         Suddenly, the board that Sirius was attempting to attach to the makeshift shelter by tying it with little pieces of his badly ripped-up robes, fell off. He sighed dismayed, and looked down at his robes, his ripped robes, which were very…. To say in the least, they were barely…appropiate. A sudden gust of wind blew up, and Sirius let out a loud yelp as everyone got a good view of his boxer shorts. 

         "Nice smiley faces you've got!" hooted Fred and George. "You've got it going on! Rock on!" 

         "Shut up," muttered Sirius. Panicky thoughts were coursing throughout Sirius's mind. _The world'll know that I still wear those damn boxers, ever since Sally Sue-bob discovered me sleeping on the roof of her dad's chicken coop…. Damnation!_

         Hermione slipped back into her robes and sat on the sand, which felt rather soft and warm. It was getting rather peaceful now… the sun was sinking towards the horizon… Sirius and Lupin were just about done with the shelter, the Weasleys had finally stopped goggling at her once she'd covered up… this wasn't so bad after all. She started to lean back on the sand, totally relaxed and..

         "AYAH!" Sirius yelled, causing everyone to start. Everyone looked at Sirius. "Look at that huge… snake!" he gasped. There was a large, black snake slithering quickly towards Sirius. "It's coming towards me!" The snake lifted its head and spread its hood. 

"AGHHH! It's a cobra! Help! Help! No wand! No wand!" he cried in a panicked way, backing away from the snake. His backing away from the snake only appeared to prompt it to slither even faster.

         Lupin rushed forward, his eyes wide with apprehension. Suddenly, the snake shuddered, and there was a popping sound. In a moment, it had transformed into a teenage girl, which ran up to Sirius and declared, "I'm Seej, and I'm madly in love with you! Will you marry me?" 

         "Uhhh?" gasped Sirius, utterly surprised. "Um.. I.." he stammered. 

          "Aw, phooey.. well, I'll just do this then," grumbled the girl. In a single quick move, she had grabbed Sirius's head with her hands and pulled his face towards her own, drawing him into a long, passionate kiss. Sirius closed his eyes and started to kiss back, but she released him abruptly, transformed back into a cobra, and slithered away, vanishing into the underbrush. 

         Sirius looked utterly shocked. "Wow.. that was one hell of a kiss…" he commented, a grin creeping over his face. 

         "Who was that?" asked Hermione.

         "No clue. But.. she was kinda cute," Sirius grinned. "Might be a bit young for me though... but you never know, in a few years.." he trailed off. 

         "Oy…" muttered Ron, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a popping sound in the air. They all looked up, expecting (dismayedly) to see Lockhart Junior in the air. 

         "_PERCY?!" _ screeched Ron, Fred, and George when they saw who it was. 

         "Yes.. must you look so horrified to see your own brother?" muttered Percy's head in midair. "I'm a temporary commentator for the show." 

         "What… happened?" asked Sirius.

         "Um.. well, the original commentator.. well, it's better for you not to know," Percy said nervously.  "Lockhart Junior took over as a temporary commentator along with Lockhart Senior.. for about three minutes. Unfortunately, an evil wizard came up and killed them both," he sighed sadly.

         Everyone cheered. "THANK GOD!" 

         Percy wrinkled his nose. "Anyhow. I am here to announce the first task to you. I'm going to do so to the other tribe as soon as I'm finished explaining it to you. You see that pile of wood over there?" 

         They all looked to where Percy was extending his arm, where near the edge of the "woods", there was a pile of scrap wood. 

         "Your challenge is to make a fire. Good luck to you. First tribe to make a fire gets a prize," snipped Percy. Then Percy's head vanished with a loud pop.

         "Stupid Percy," muttered the Weasleys. 

         ***

         Fifteen miles up the river, Percy had explained the same objective to the Ominana tribe. They all stared at him, aghast and horrified, except for Harry. 

         "Goddamit!" cursed Malfoy. "How can you expect us to possibly conjure up a fire when we don't have wands?!" 

         Every single person who was a Slytherin or had been a Slytherin in the past, which included Snape and Voldemort, were all screaming and cursing at Percy belligerently. 

         "Ok, you know your objective, good luck," said Percy in a shockingly neutral voice. He then popped into nothingness.

         They all snarled after Percy, and then turned to Harry with patronizing looks on their face. 

         "What?!" Harry snapped. "Do you expect me to do more work for you?!" 

         They all grinned evilly at him in reply. 

         ***

         "OOOWW! GOYLE! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" screamed Harry. Goyle was holding him upside down while Malfoy and Pansy deliberately poked him with sharp sticks. "MALFOY! YOU BASTARD! PANSY!" 

         Snape called out, "Ok, enough is enough, put the Potter boy down, or he'll be even more unwilling to help us." 

         Goyle immediately dropped him, causing Harry to land on his head painfully. "Ow!" 

         "Potter, can you start a fire?" inquired Snape. 

         "Um.. I'm not sure, I can try.." 

         "Harry Potter," said Voldemort in a deadly cold voice. "If you know how to start a fire, you better tell us you do." His evil red eyes flashed at Harry, who gulped. 

         "Ok, um, yes.. I think I do. I've seen Muggles do it on television!" 

         "What's television?" inquired Pansy.

         "A crappy Muggle invention," replied Malfoy. "I saw it once.. it was this TV that my father bought to bewitch… and three letters appeared on it: H-B-O.. and there were some really kinky stuff going on… I couldn't tell what it was…" said Malfoy, obviously thinking hard. 

         "Please, don't try to remember," shuddered Harry. 

         Several hours later, with the sun sinking below the horizon, Harry was sweating feverishly, attempting to entice flames to come to life by rubbing a stick into a piece of wood. 

         "Hurry, Potter, the sun's going down… we need to have a fire by dusk!" pressed Snape.

         "Yeah… we didn't mean to hold you up back there!" Malfoy coughed. 

         "Of course not, we never meant to do any of that!" assured Voldemort in a patronizing manner. "That thing with your parents, erm, that was a slip of my wand! Honestly! I was aiming at a bush!" 

         Harry scowled at the lot of Slytherins, and rubbed the stick even harder, when all of a sudden, a waft of smoke emanated from the wood. 

         "QUICK! GIVE ME SOME DRY GRASS!" screamed Harry. All the Slytherins started hollering and shouting, trying to find dry grass. Snape tripped over Pansy, who immediately took the opportunity to fondle his genitals, causing Snape to roar with anger. Voldemort had crashed into Malfoy, and was screaming at him angrily to 'get some dry grass for the Potter boy which he would eventually kill after this goddamned show was finished.' Finally, Draco, panting and gasping, fell towards Harry with some dry grass in his hand, which Harry immediately snatched up and threw onto the barely-surviving waft of smoke, blowing upon it. Suddenly, a tiny flame burst forth.

         "FIRE!" screamed everyone delightedly. 

         "MORE GRASS!" screamed Harry. 

         And more grass came. 

         Ten minutes later, they had a roaring bonfire going. They were all happy. Except for Harry. He'd slunk over to hide behind a nearby tree to sulk and be depressed. 

          Later, one thing that cheered him up slightly was while the Slytherins were standing around the fire, chatting and laughing in their own horrible Slytherish way, Voldemort had passed the fire, and he somehow brushed by it. Flames were licking away at the hem of his robes. 

         Ten minutes later, Voldemort's agonized screams of, _"GODDAMMIT! MON DUI! MY ROBE'S ON FIRE! SET IT OUT! SET IT OUT!!" _ highly amused Harry. He grinned widely, and then gazed up at the stars. He wondered how his friends had done.

***

 _Two and a half hours previously_

         "Well, all we's got to do is start a fire?" commented Fred and George. "Hell, that's going to be easy!" 

         "Oh, really? Do you know how much time it takes to get the fire going?" snapped Hermione. 

         Fred, George, and Hermione were about to start arguing when Lupin and Sirius stepped in. "Hold on, kids!" shouted Sirius. "We can't start getting hysterical!" 

         "Fred! What's that in your pocket?" asked Lupin rather suddenly and sharply.

         Fred looked over at his robe pocket. There was something red protruding slightly from it, which he pulled out. 

         Everyone grinned in a most delighted way. 

         Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks.

         An hour later, they had managed to get the huge pile of scrap wood over to the middle of the beach, where it'd be easily accessible. 

         "We've got to do this carefully.. we've only got two of these fireworks," warned Lupin. 

         Fred and George nodded. 

         Fred handed a Filibuster's firework to George, who graciously accepted it with outstretched hands and bowed solemnly, causing giggles to ripple throughout the crowd. He then marched slowly down to the river, and leaned over tentatively, lowering the string end of the firework to the water. Everyone tersely held their breaths as they expected the inevitable that was to come. A moment later, there were terribly loud, popping sounds, and fiery blue sparks flying in every direction from the firework, with a terrified George holding onto it. George panickedly ran to the fire with the sparking firework in his hand, hooting madly. 

         "Run, George! RUN! RUN!" screamed Fred.

         George dove onto the firewood, and stuck the firework in it, and sprang away. Thunderous pops were emanating from the firecracker, causing everyone to shrink away nervously. An instant later, a huge boom resonated throughout the area.

          Neville had run away and hidden in the woods, utterly terrified. 

"Oww!" cried Hermione, clutching her painfully ringing ears. She spewed a long string of blasphemous curses, causing everyone to look at her with wide eyes. 

          She, however, didn't notice this, as while they were watching her, she was watching the wood pile. It had been successfully lit! "Oooo!" she murmered. "LOOK!" 

          Everyone did. This caused various responses. 

          "OH! YEAH!" cried Sirius. Lupin wiped happy tears away from his eyes, and Ron was grinning madly. Fred and George, however, were overly joyful. They were hopping around madly and whooping.

          Later, the sun had completely dropped off the edge of the horizon, causing twilight to fall upon them. Faint stars slowly materialized in the lavender yonder.         

         Suddenly, Percy's head reappeared in the air, glowing brightly. They all looked up at him. Meanwhile, over at the Ominana tribe, the same apparition of Percy was being broadcast. Percy, with a dignified, important air, announced: 

         "Both Survivor tribes managed to get excellent bonfires going. The Bomaninas however, started their fire first, with Ominana starting up theirs well over an hour after the former."

         The Bomanina tribe cheered wildly, while the Ominana tribe sulked. 

         "For this, the Bomanina tribe gets the Immunity Idol," Percy concluded. He held up an horribly ugly stuffed Teletubby_._ "This idol prevents the tribe who holds it from having to vote out a member. However, that doesn't go for the tribe who has lost the challenge. So, tonight, the Ominanas must vote out a member." 

         ***

         The Ominana survivors sat in a really weird Pagan setting, which had tall rocks looming above them and torches everywhere.

         "This is creepy," muttered Pansy, her hand itching towards Malfoy's you-know-what. 

         "PANSY!" shouted Malfoy, spotting her hand in time. 

         Pansy's other hand itched towards Snape, and unfortunately for him, he didn't notice it in time. A second later, Snape yelped sharply, then angrily shoved Pansy's hand away and glared daggers at her. 

         Voldemort had edged away from Pansy as far as possible. Harry had done the same, but as far away from Voldemort as he could possibly get too. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting behind Malfoy, as always. 

          Percy apparated suddenly, making them all start with suprise. He looked down upon them all solemnly, and then said in his most dignified manner: "Hello."

         They all glared at him morosely. 

         "I am Percy."

         "Fuck, we already know that!" snapped Malfoy. 

         "Watch your language," Percy commanded solemnly.

         "Go screw a garden gnome," said Malfoy contemptuously. 

         Percy looked at Malfoy, horrified. Malfoy just smirked back at him with narrowed eyes. Percy bristled. 

         "Anyway, the rules of this are simple. You go up over there." He pointed to a narrow, creaky bridge that stretched over a seemingly bottomless abyss. "Write the name of the person who you want to vote out, and put it in the bucket. Then you come here. Don't talk." 

                    Ten minutes later, every Ominana member had done this. Percy went across the bridge to fetch the bucket with the votes, but halfway across on the bridge, he stepped on a rotten board and fell into the black abyss of Doom.

         "Oy. That was.. tragic," commented Malfoy. 

         Snape, upon seeing that Percy had carelessly dropped his wand onto the ground (which was very unPercy of Percy) dashed forward, and screamed with all his might, "_ACCIO PERCY!_"

         Much to Malfoy's dismay, a terrified Percy came zooming out of the bottomless abyss over which the bridge stretched. Snape lowered Percy into the middle of the surrounding. "Sorry, Malfoy," muttered Snape. "I just had to see that.. a certain person was voted out…" he trailed off, glaring at Pansy. 

          Percy snatched his wand away from Snape. "I thank you," he muttered. "I suppose we'll let you off, since you used the wand to save my life.. but.. I'm not going across that bridge again! _ACCIO BUCKET!_" The bucket with the votes in it flew towards Percy.

         "Tally the votes now!" hissed Harry, Voldemort, Snape, and Draco. They all looked very worried. 

         Percy nodded obediently and pulled out the first square piece of cloth. Upon it was written in very scrawled, messy handwriting in which some of the letters were written backwards such as the 'L' and the 'F'.. "Malfoy," announced Percy.

         Malfoy turned livid. 

         He pulled out another one, written in the same style as the first, only even messier. "Malfoy."

         Malfoy began to curse uncontrollably. "WHAT BLOODY GITS! WHO DID THIS?! I'LL KILL THEM! THE BASTARDS! ASSES! JACKHEADS! I'LL TEAR OFF THEIR HEADS! I'LL MURDER THEM! I'LL DRAW THEIR BLOOD!" 

         "Easy, Malfoy," muttered Harry. 

         Pansy stared pointedly at Malfoy's pelvis. 

         Percy drew out the next name. "Pansy."

         Pansy opened her mouth, aghast with shock. 

         Percy drew out the next one. "Pansy."

         Pansy started gasping in horror, eyes widened.

         Percy drew out the sixth one. "Evil mean Snape who won't let me fondle his genitals," he announced, reading the cloth.

         Snape glared at Pansy.

          "And…" Percy sighed, drawing out the last cloth. "Pansy."

         "HALLELUJAH!" Harry screamed. He had not realized that Snape, Malfoy, and Voldemort had shouted it at the exact same time. Crabbe and Goyle looked like they didn't give a damn. 

         Pansy had started sobbing pitifully. 

         "Pansy, you'll need to bring me your torch," said Percy patronizingly. Pansy gave him a very evil look and grabbed a nearby flaming torch, and walked up to him. 

                    "I'll have to put your fire out-" Percy started to say, but next thing he knew, Pansy had started beating him up with the torch, thus putting it out herself.  

         "OW! OW! YOU'RE DISQUALIFIED! GET OUT OF HERE!"

         Pansy spun around and glared at her former Survivor teammates. "I hate all of you! You'll pay for this!" she screamed at them. Then she skulked away angrily. 

                    Harry was happy for about ten seconds. Then he realized he was still stuck with his least favorite people, and he moaned out of despair. 

***

          The Bomanina tribe was rejoicing exuberantly, whooping and screaming in glee as they danced around the fire. 

          "WE GOT IMMUNITY! WE GOT IMMUNITY!" hooted Fred and George gleefully.

         "That's a hell of a weird name," commented Sirius. "Immunity. Makes it sound like it's supposed to keep us from contracting Ebola or something. Or… something from Pansy," he added, shuddering. 

         Everyone else grimaced, then they forgot about it and partied away into the night. 

                    Later, when they were all worn out and trying to fight off sleep, they realized something. They had once more lost Neville. 

         "NEVILLE!" screamed Hermione. 

         ***

         Next morning, Harry woke up, and to his horror, he saw Pansy attempting to pull down his pants. Pansy grinned sardonically at him, and whispered, "Harry…. Will you.. come here? I.. am.. madly… in… love.. with…you…" 

         Harry let out a horrified yell. He screamed as Pansy lunged towards him, her frighteningly manicured nails outstretched.. clawed.. wrapping them around his neck…

          "AAAAAAAARGH!"

         "Potter! Oh, Potter!" 

          "NOOOO! GET AWAY"

         "POTTER! WAKE UP, YOU IDIOT!" 

         Harry woke up, and saw that it was morning. He quickly looked at his pants. Pansy hadn't pulled them down. Pansy wasn't there. Pansy was gone. She'd been voted out. His tribe, Ominana, would never again have to deal with her genital obsession until after this stupid show was done with. He sighed in relief and said a quick prayer of thanks.        

          Draco was on his hands in front of Harry, glaring at him in a very irritated manner. "You woke me up, you stupid little idiot. It's 7:43 a.m! What an ungodly hour!" 

          "Oh, is it?" Harry mumbled. "Buzz off, then, and leave me alone, you prat." He tried to fall back asleep. 

         "You idiot," Malfoy snarled. "If only I had my wand…"

         "Oh, really?!" snapped Harry, his eyes opening again. "Only if I had my wand too! We could have a nice lovely little duel, or perhaps a cute little round of tea. But, guess what, you moron? WE DON'T HAVE ANY FRICKING WANDS! Or were you not aware of that? Oh, my god, but I should have known you wouldn't be!" Harry got up and fled away from the shelter before Malfoy could respond. However, he didn't make it far. Seconds later, Harry crashed right into Crabbe. He gulped and looked at Crabbe, who was two and a half feet taller than him. Crabbe scowled at him. "Um.. good morning?" Harry squeaked timidly. 

                    Malfoy came out of the shelter, smirking a smirk like no other smirk he'd smirked before. "You know what to do," drawled Malfoy, smirking even more widely.

         A bit later, Harry had to endure the guffaws of laughter rolling towards him as he hung from a tree branch by his underwear. He would get Malfoy and his cronies for this… oh yes, he would…with a vengeance like none before…

         ***

         "We've got mail, you've got mail, everyone's got mail!" sang Fred and George in tune to the weird American song, "He's a dude, she's a dude.. everyone's a dude!" 

         "That's.. mail?" asked Sirius in a dubious tone. 

         "I guess so," said Ron, who was also looking at the coconut that George was holding. 

         "That's stupid, that's idiotic, why can't they send us a normal piece of paper? This damned show! It's not worth 50,000 galleons!" raged Hermione. 

         "Hermione, it's ok. Even though we're all upset, this show is a valuable life lesson," proclaimed Lupin.

         "You've gotta be kidding," Ron grumbled. 

         "Nope. The lesson is: Never ever enter a sweepstakes to be in this sort of show again," declared Lupin.

         "Amen," sighed Fred and George. 

         "Now… let me see that," Sirius said, extending his arms. Fred tossed the coconut to Sirius, who looked at it. 

         "Oh… bloody hell…" he exclaimed, finding a white patch of little squiggles on the coconut. "They wrote on it! This writing's tiny! Goddamn!" He began to read out the writing on the coconut. "High is fall. Wet is wet. All must meet all. For what you get, you must earn."

         Everyone was silent for a moment- only for a moment though. A moment later- 

         "Riddles?" screamed Ron. "RIDDLES?!"

         "What the hell are they putting riddles in the show for?!" Sirius growled.

         "I don't _even_ understand that," mused Hermione. "Some idiot must have written it." 

         "What the fuck does it mean?" grumbled Fred.

         "Weren't you listening to Hermie? She alreadly said she didn't know, and she's the brainy one!" 

         "Don't call me Hermie," hissed Hermione. "I hate 'Hermie'!"

         Suddenly, llamas began to drop from the sky.

         "What the fuck?" exclaimed George. "Llamas?" 

         "_Parachuting llamas_," corrected Fred. "Yeah, what the hell is that supposed to be?" 

         Neville, who they had discovered being cornered by a bird-eating tarantula last night, was whimpering in terror at the parachuting llamas landing all around them. 

         "They're cute!" chirped Hermione. She moved near one to pet it, but it immediately lunged towards her and bit her on her hand. Hermione shrieked painfully. 

         "EVIL LLAMAS!" cried Neville, horrified. "THEY'RE GOING TO KILL US! Is that the next challenge?!" 

         "That can't be it!" Lupin said nervously.

                    Sirius had dashed forward to save Hermione from the apparently evil llama, which was now trying to maul her. He turned into a dog and barked loudly at the llama, then jumped up onto it and sank his teeth into its neck. Instantly, the llama dropped dead, abruptly ceasing its mauling of poor Hermione. 

         The other llamas, about a dozen of them, however, looked at the poor Bomanina tribe with evil intent. 

         Suddenly, wizards apparated, shocking the wits out of everyone, and began stunning the llamas. In about five seconds, they all lay on the ground, unconscious. A wizard came up and greeted Sirius. 

         "I'm sorry, that wasn't supposed to happen. Some person dropped these rabid llamas on you as a prank… a rather dangerous one.." 

         Meanwhile, a Mediwizard was healing Hermione's wounds. 

         Sirius opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The wizards who had Stunned the llamas disapparated once more, taking the llamas with them. 

         "That.. was… certainly odd," said Hermione, her llama bites freshly healed. Blood was still all over her, and it was getting sticky and gross.

         ***

         Harry crashed to the ground painfully. "Finally.." he thought to himself. His underwear that had suspended him from the tree branch had finally ripped. This was both good and bad… the good news was that he had at last gotten down from the tree, but the bad news was that the underwear he was currently wearing was his only pair of underwear… and now, there was a hole the size of a grapefruit in it. He cursed passionately to himself. "I'll get those damn Slytherins.. I'll get them…" He marched over to the shelter, where Draco lay napping, with Crabbe and Goyle snoozing nearby. Harry glanced around for Snape and Voldemort. They were about five hundred feet away, conversing seriously about something. 

         (Snape and Voldemort were having a serious knock-knock joke discussion.) 

         Harry kicked Malfoy's feet. "Wake up, you insolent snarlymouth!" 

         Malfoy's eyes popped open, and he snarled. "Pot-" Malfoy started to say, but next thing he knew, he had dust thrown in his eyes. 

         Harry skipped away, giggling gleefully. He was getting a warm, bubbly feeling as he listened to Malfoy scream from the dust that had been tossed into his eyes. 

          ***


	7. Episode Five: Pansy's Revenge

THE WIZARD SURVIVOR SHOW

EPISODE FIVE

"H-hellos, sirs and misses! I am Dobby!" squeaked a tiny elf with long ears and huge, tennis-ball sized eyes. He was wearing a range of brightly colorful clothing. At the moment, on his feet were a pair of socks, of which one was a violent fuschia color and the other depicted a sunny ocean-side scene with the waves actually moving. He was also wearing a black shirt with a white Adias logo on it, and Hawaiian-print shorts on his legs. And upon his head, he wore a Sherlocks Holmes-style hat. Everything clashed rather horribly, but in all, the elf was clean-cut. "The other commeenateer is coming in moments, sirs and misses!"

         Suddenly, horrified gasps could be heard coming from all around the globe as they watched, as one of the most monstrous, hideous beasts they had ever seen came clambering into the chair next to Dobby. Dobby's eyes grew wide with fright and he started to hyperventilate. "Oh! Dobby is scared!" he squeaked, as the enormous, elephant-sized, gray spider settled itself into its chair, immediately crushing it flat. 

         "Ahhhh…" the spider clicked. "That's comfortable… ooh, I'm smelling the scent of flesh.. but it's not human… I'm rather hungry…"

         "No, no, that is Dobby, do not be hurting Dobby!" squealed the terrified house-elf. 

         "Ah.. yes, I was instructed quite thoroughly not to eat anyone.. though I shall have to overcome the urge to quite often…" clicked the spider. Some glistening spider slime hung down from its colossal fangs. 

         Dobby, who was trembling all over now, turned wide, teary eyes to the camera and announced: "Okays, sirs and misses! We is starting the new epeesode now! The great and honorable Harry Potter, who defeated the Dark Lord.." he shuddered at the thought of the Dark Lord- "is being very happy that bad Malfoy is having dust in his eyes!" he giggled. Then a dark look came into his eyes. "Dobby am not being belonging to the Malfoys anymore.. Dobby is freed! But Dobby must say… to the world.. that the Malfoys.. are bad.. bad DARK WIZARDS!" he screeched. He then hurled himself against the wall, knocking himself unconscious. 

         "Ahh… it appears to my ancient ears that the little one has thrown himself against the wall," said blind Aragog. "MEDIWIZARD! NOW! DAMMIT!" 

         While the mediwizards came up and started attempting to revive the unconscious Dobby, Aragog drew himself up, and stared blindly to the side of the studio, away from the camera. "Now, I've heard, to summarize last week's episode-"

         "ARAGOG!" screamed Miss Baker, the director. "You're not facing the camera! Someone help him face the camera!" 

          "Well, I can't help it if I'm blind!" clicked Aragog angrily. 

          A little attendant came running up and pushed himself against Aragog's revolting spider body, in an attempt to help Aragog face the camera properly. Aragog, however, felt this was a threat and with one swipe of a leg, swept him up and contentedly devoured him. 

         "NOOOO! NO EATING PEOPLE!" Miss Baker screamed. 

         "He was pushing me!" Aragog retorted. 

         Miss Baker cursed. "Just summarize and start the show!" 

         "Whatever," Aragog muttered. He drew himself up more once, as well as a giant spider could, and proclaimed: "To summarize events from last week, episode four, Harry has just thrown dust in his sworn mortal enemy's eyes! Will we see apprehension build up in the Ominana tribe? What about the Bomanina tribe? Will they get over the shock of someone deliberately dropping parachuting llamas into their campsite?! Oh.. god.. I love llamas… so tender and juicy.." Aragog sighed, drooling onto the floor and making a large, nasty puddle of a combination of slimy spider drool and spider venom.

          "ARAGOG! STOP DROOLING! THAT'S DISGUSTING, DAMMIT!"

         "Well, I am blind, so I don't care if it's disgusting, because I can't see it! Nyah! Nyah! Nyaaaah!" 

         Dobby had been revived by this time, and he trembled. "Dobby can comment now!" 

         "Very well," clicked Aragog. "That Baker is making me very peeved off… I'm going to imagine eating her and ripping apart her succulent, tender flesh... go ahead, Dobby." 

         Dobby stiffened with fright. "Okay, Dobby will take over now! The Survivors will be seeing their second challenge! And the wizards all around the globes is going to be very surprised! There will be things no one is ever seeing before! And now we is starting the show, because Aragog is being very icky and drooling all over the floor, and Dobby and Miss Baker is not liking that!" 

         The spider and house elf faded away from sight.. 

*** 

         Hermione sat up, groaning from an uncomfortable night of sleeping on sand. Sleeping on sand is not good, she thought. She blinked sleepily, trying to make her eyes focus…

          And her eyes focused. 

         Right on a pair of briefs. With someone in them. 

         Hermione let out a bloodcurdling howl.

         And the person in front of her let out a bloodcurdling shriek in response.

         And Hermione, seeing that it was _Neville_ in the briefs, hollered even more piercingly loud. 

         And this cacophony woke everyone up.

         "DAMN!" yelled George's voice. "WHAT'S GOING ON?!" 

         "NEVILLE, GET COVERED UP, DAMMIT!" screamed Ron. 

         "CALM DOWN! CALM DOWN!" roared Lupin. 

         "I NEED MY BEAUTY SLEEP!" hollered Sirius. 

         "ME TOO!" screamed Fred. "NEVILLE, WILL YOU GET UNDER A BLANKET?!"

         Neville was crying piteously because everyone was yelling their eyes off at him. "I'm sorry.. I just had to go and do my mid-morning tinkle!" he whimpered.

         Everyone shut up, sickened at the thought. Sirius checked his magical glowing watch and hissed, "Neville, it's 5:43 a.m! What the hell are you doing? GO TINKLE AND GET IT OVER WITH!" 

         "Too late…" Neville said, looking dismayed. 

         Everyone let out a groan. 

         "Oh… mannn…" sighed Fred and George. They moved as far away from Neville as was possible. 

         (Readers, you don't even have to try and think hard to imagine what happened.)

         ***

          Four hours later, the Ominana survivors were beginning to stir. 

         Harry was snoozing, his head against something extremely nice and soft. He cozied up against it, and sighed contentedly as he was now even more comfortable. 

         From somewhere far off, Harry was dreaming. He was skipping through a field full of flowers… hand in hand with Cho Chang. 

         "Cho Chang, I love you," sighed Harry. 

         "Harry," sighed Cho Chang. "I love you to-" 

         But someone woke him up, at that very moment. At that very moment in his best dream ever. The flower-laden scene with a glowing Cho Chang jerked away into black nothingness, as his consciousness emerged into the new day. And someone was yelling at him. Someone was waking him up.

          "I WAS DREAMING!" screeched Harry, his eyes still closed.

         "Get your damn head off my butt!" snarled Snape. 

         Harry opened his eyes, and gasped. His head was nested on Snape's rear. Snape had a pair of very unattractive boxer shorts on, with little balloons all over them. "HOLY HIPPOGRIFF!" Harry cried. He screamed and threw himself away from Snape's behind, staring at Snape with pure horror and disgust. 

         Snape looked equally horrified. "You!" he hissed.

         "You! You made me!" Harry gasped. 

         Each stared at each other with horror and disbelief. 

         But what they didn't notice was Pansy. They widened their eyes as they turned their heads towards the crazed-appearing blonde Slytherin. Somehow she'd managed to get back into the campsite. And she was holding a camera in her hands, which was smoking lightly. 

          Snape and Harry cursed at the same moment. If that picture ever got out..

         They both lunged towards Pansy at the same moment. Pansy, however, only issued a shrill laugh and disapparated on the spot. "I told you I'd get you!" her voice echoed. 

         "Oh my god.. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.." Harry moaned to himself. He was unaware that Snape was doing the same thing. 

         "What's going on, Professor?" Malfoy mumbled, getting up and rubbing his eyes. They were still smarting from having dust thrown in them. 

         "The Potter boy.. and I somehow.. ended up in an inappropriate position overnight," Snape snarled. "And your fricking girlfriend took a picture of it!"

         "Inappropriate position?" Malfoy mused. Harry could see all sorts of perverted pictures going through Malfoy's head. 

         "It's not what you think, Draco. The boy was sleeping and using my…" he jerked a thumb over his shoulder- "as a pillow."

         Draco snorted, attempting to keep back hordes of hysterical laughter. "Okay.. I understand… Pansy was here?" 

         "Yes.."

         "Oh, my.. then that couldn't have been the only thing she's done.. she'd have gotten us all," Malfoy gasped. 

         Snape blanched. "What else did she do? Other than us?" 

         Harry growled. 

         Malfoy pushed his blanket off him, and then paled when he saw his legs. 

         Now it was Harry's turn to try not to collapse in fits of laughter. 

         Malfoy's legs were completely covered in swirling rainbow colors. 

         "Oh my god…!" gasped Malfoy in disbelief. 

         "Looking very retro," Harry snorted. 

         Everyone knew what the modern interpretation of rainbows were. 

         Malfoy cursed obscenely as he, Snape, and Harry looked at the other three Survivors in their shelters. They inspected at Crabbe and Goyle and saw in with horror that their heads had been somehow reversed. They all gaped at the quietly napping Crabbe and Goyle in disbelief. Crabbe issued a grunt and then turned over in his sleep. 

         "Ok.. let's look at Voldemort.. after all, he's my future master," Draco said in a worried tone. 

         _I hope something really bad happened to him_, Snape thought to himself. _That snake-faced bastard. _

         "Uh oh.." Draco said.

          "Uh oh.." Snape echoed.

          "Uh oh…" Harry echoed Snape's echo.

         "Who's going to wake him up?" asked Malfoy, still staring down at a sleeping Voldemort, who was chuckling sinisterly in his sleep.

         "I'll do it," Snape volunteered. He leaned over, and shook Voldemort's shoulder. "Master?" he forced himself to say through gritted teeth. "Wake up…" 

         Voldemort's eyes popped open. "Severus?" he questioned. "I was having a very pleasant dream! I was torturing that Potter boy and mutilating him, and you woke me up!" he growled. 

         "I'm sorry, but this is rather urgent," Snape hissed. "You… um… need to go down by the river and look at your reflection." 

         Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and got up. With a sweep of his robes, he exited the shelter and they could all hear him clambering down the sand to the river. A moment later, they heard a roar of fury, and the sounds of Voldemort clambering back up the sandbank. 

          "WHO?!" roared Voldemort. "WHO DID THIS?!" he demanded, pointing furiously at his face. 

         Makeup had been applied to Voldemort in the most distasteful and gaudy manner possible. He was wearing an enormous amount of bright pink lipstick, which looked rather silly on him, since he had no lips of any sort around his thin mouth. Liberal amounts of bright green and bright blue eye shadow had been brushed over his brilliant scarlet eyes. Swipes of tan foundations were issued all over his white skin and skull. Blush was only too visible on his parched cheeks. And last, but not least, _fake eyelashes_ had been applied to Voldemort's eyelids.  

         And it appeared to have all been magicked on. And there was no way of removing it without a wand. 

         "Pansy," replied Harry in a quiet voice. 

         "Pansy?" repeated Voldemort. "That… ok, she's on my blacklist now." cursed Voldemort. His eyes widened with rage, only bringing out the effect of the makeup even more. 

         "And I believe she took pictures of us all," added Snape. 

         Voldemort paled. 

         "From what I'm thinking, we're probably all going to have a 10-page spread in Witch Weekly," muttered Draco. "Damn it," he added. He kicked at the sand with a brilliant retro-colored foot.  

         And suddenly, Crabbe and Goyle lumbered out of the shelter, their heads reversed, looking bewildered. "Draco!" they cried. "We can see our behinds! Did something happen?"

         Then a dozen medi-wizards appeared. 

         "Oh, my god, thank god!" Voldemort yelled. 

         ***

         "That's funny, I could have sworn I heard a scream," said Lupin. 

         "Well, you do have super-human hearing, you werewolf git," scoffed Sirius. "So I wouldn't doubt it."

         "But.. it sounded like the Ominanas.." mused Lupin.

         "I hope Harry's doing ok over there, I'm worrying myself to pieces!" 

         "I just hope that nothing happened over there," Lupin said worriedly. "According to the mail, second challenge's coming up." 

         ***

         Suddenly, Lupin's face faded away, once more revealing the commentators: Dobby and Aragog. Dobby stole a nervous glance at Aragog, still clicking his jaws hungrily. "Dobby is thinking Aragog needs feeding, Dobby is not wanting to be eaten!" he squeaked.

         A bunch of wizard assistants came running up with a cow who was frantically mooing. Aragog immediately gobbled down the poor dairy-producing animal. 

          Dobby, now splattered with cow blood, shook nervously and blinked at the camera. "We is taking a break from _Wizard Survivor_, which will be right back after these messages of our sponsors!" 

***


	8. Episode Six: Witch Weekly

The Wizard Survivor Show

**EPISODE SIX**

***

          "Hello, sirs and misses! It is I, Dobby the house-elf, with… with… A-a-aragog the Acro.. the acrom- acro.. the giant spider!" squeaked the tiny house elf who turned to look warily at Aragog, who was slowly rocking back and forth in his spot. 

         "Yes, and we have returned. Welcome back to the Wizard Survivor show," clicked Aragog. "That particular female describing those Every Flavor Beans sounded particularly delectable," he said, referring to one of the commercials that had been shown before the show aired.

         "Yes!" squeaked Dobby in a most terrified voice. "And now we go back to _Wizard Survivor! _You all witnessed last week, the terrors that the exiled Pansy Parkinson is unleashed upon the Ominana tribe!" he squealed as he avoided one of Aragog's huge, hairy legs that'd barely missed hitting him as the spider shifted around in its spot, yearning for warm flesh. "And she is currently being prosecuted.. but news have gone out about is frantic activity and much covering-up at the is scandalous Witch Weekly!"

         *** 

          All the Bomaninas were outside, sitting on the sandy grounds next to the river. 

         "Well," said Sirius. He was sitting cross-legged on the sand.. 

         "Well," echoed Fred. "How about teaching me how to do that wedgie?" 

         "Not now, I'm working on my tan. I'm as white as a bloody vampire." 

          "Mmm," Hermione sighed, gazing up into the sun 

         Neville sniffed rather unhappily and trailed a chubby finger through the sand, rendering simple pictures such as unhappy frowny-faces and grave headstones with "RIP" embedded onto them.  

         "This is boring as a soddy talking show," grumbled George. "Just simply waiting about, wondering what tortures and punishments the evil Wizard Survivor creeps have got planned for us next… do they think we have better things to do than soak up cancer-inducing ultraviolet rays? Is this bloody boring or what?"

         "Yes, it is," said Lupin, a wicked grin appearing on his face. "How about we do something to amuse ourselves?" 

          Sirius immediately perked up at this question. "What have you got in mind, Moony?" 

         "If you're thinking what I'm thinking, and I'm thinking you're thinking the same thing I'm thinking, because I assume we think on the same terms, my Padfoot, then you know what I'm thinking about," replied Lupin mysteriously.

          Fred and George both paled. 

          "Moony?" gasped Fred. 

          "Padfoot?" exclaimed George. 

         Lupin and Sirius looked at each other with rather amused looks. 

"Those are our, uh… shall we say nicknames?" replied Sirius offhandedly. 

         "Holy-" said Fred.

         "Shit!" finished George. "You guys… weren't perchance, involved in the making of a certain map of Hogwarts… better known as…" he coughed loudly. 

          "The Mauraders Map?" Fred choked. 

         Sirius and Lupin smirked, then nodded.

         The Weasley twins looked stunned beyond words. A sort of an adoring light came into their eyes, and they stared at the two adult Marauders with reverence. This highly amused everyone else in the area who was or had been affiliated with the Marauder's Map.   

           ***

          Meanwhile, halfway around the world, Mrs. Weasley sat hunched over, staring at her fireplace as she waited nervously for the _Wizard Survivor Show_ appear on Firevision. She bit away idly at an already chewed-down nail and looked around for things to glare at. Finally, after quarter or so of an hour later, a loud _pop_ came from behind her. Mrs. Weasley let out a startled yelp, but when she saw it was her husband, Arthur, she sighed with relief, but in a flash, a dark look came over her face. 

         "_ARTHUR!" _ she hollered. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU!" 

         Arthur recoiled from his wife's display of abnormal anger. "Molly, please, tone it down.. you never know when the children could be around," he said in his most placating voice. 

         "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THAT!" she screeched. She grabbed a magazine off the table she had been sitting at and waved it furiously in front of her husband's baffled face. Then, lowering her voice to a hiss: "Look at what that stupid blonde Pansy's done…"          

Wondering what his wife could be so worried about, he glanced at the magazine in Molly's shaking hand, which he recognized as _Witch Weekly_. When he saw the headline, Molly's returning yells faded into the background. Silence berated him as he gazed at the front page of the magazine. A feeling of horror surged up in him like a swell of cold water.

Witch Weekly 

**Vol. 145 No. 23**

** SPECIAL! SHOCKING FOOTAGE OF LEWID POSITIONS OF OMINANA TRIBE MEMBERS! 10-PAGE SPREAD, STARTING ON PAGE  3!**

Dreading what he would see, he turned to page three. "Oh.. God in heaven!" gasped Arthur, when he viewed the contents of the ten-page article.  

         ***

         Meanwhile, in the Ominana tribe, Voldemort was emerging from the shade of the shelter to survey his surroundings. At the time, it was noon, and he put a bare foot on the sand, which was a rather stupid thing to do, as it was scalding hot. 

         Voldemort's howls of burn-inflicted pain filled the surrounding area for quite a ways. He slunk back into the tent, cursing sinisterly. After rummaging a bit, he found what he'd been searching for- a pair of flip-flops. They were bright orange with a lovely pattern of pink polka-dots. 

          Harry, who was in the tent, couldn't help watching Voldemort put the flip-flops on his feet. Seeing the act nauseated Harry. Voldemort's feet were not a pretty sight. They were white, pointy, and the unnaturally long toes ended in claws. Plus, it appeared to Harry that Voldemort's feet looked like they were covered in some kind of fungus or something. 

          "Ew," said Harry, the feeling of nausea getting even worse. 

         Voldemort's red eyes shifted to Harry. "What the hell you 'ewing' at?" he asked in his most irritated voice.  

         Harry shot him an insolent look. He then indicated Voldemort's feet with a jerk of his head. 

         "What? My feet? What the hell's wrong with my feet? I'm the greatest wizard on the planet, and you dare insult my feet?" 

         Harry shrugged. "Yeah," he said snappishly, rather out of character for him. 

         Voldemort advanced towards Harry, his hands outstretched. Guessing what was coming, Harry yelped and scampered out of the tent, out of Voldemort's reach. Voldemort growled after Harry as he exited the tent, then Voldemort sighed heavily. He finished putting on his flip-flops, then proceeded out of the tent into the blazing sun. 

         Snape was outside, watching Harry retreat hastily into the woods. He noticed Voldemort emerging from the tent, and waved to him. "Yo," he said, in a very Americanish way. "Whaaaaaazuppp?" 

         Voldemort paused, giving Snape a hard look. "…. Huh?" 

         "Nevermind.. I think the sun's getting to me," muttered Snape, shaking his head. He did look rather disoriented. Then an expression of disgust was apparent on Snape's face. "Those two… we really need to get rid of them.." he said, indicating Crabbe and Goyle. They were in the middle of the river, without nary a thread of clothing upon them. It wasn't pretty. 

         "They're next," replied Voldemort. He meant that Crabbe and Goyle would most certainly be the next two Survivors to be ousted.  

          Snape nodded in agreement. 

         After standing there for a bit, Voldemort sighed loudly and exaggeratedly. "It's hot!" he exclaimed, fanning himself with a hand.

         "Indeed," replied Snape through gritted teeth. His hair was bothering him greatly. He'd never sweated so much before by simply standing still. This resulted in the fact that his hair had never been so dirty and filthy and full of sweat and matted before in his life… it was beginning to attract insects. For the first time in Snape's life, he would have been quite agreeable to the concept of actually shampooing his hair. 

          Suddenly, Draco came streaking out of nowhere by Snape and Voldemort. He was donning swimming shorts. Snape and Voldemort watched as Draco approached the waterline of the river, leapt through the air, and splashed into the river. For a moment, Draco was underwater, then he came bursting up into the air, laughing. Then he spotted Crabbe and Goyle's clothes-less state. He looked stunned and disgusted. 

         "What the hell? CRABBE! GOYLE! PUT ON SOME  CLOTHES!" he yelled. 

         Crabbe and Goyle grunted obediently and walked out of the river. Voldemort and Snape screwed up their eyes, not wishing to witness their walking out of the river. 

         Five minutes later, the two heavyset cronies of Draco's were suitably covered up. Suddenly, Aragog's life-size image appeared in the air. 

         "AAARRRRRRGH!" screamed Malfoy.

         "ARRRRRRRRGH!" squealed Snape. He stopped screaming and muttered furiously to himself for having screamed like a pig. 

         Harry, who had wandered out of the woods and back on to beach by now, saw Aragog. Upon recognizing him, he recoiled with horror, then slightly calmed down when he realized it was simply the image of the acromantula. He was still creeped out… no sane person wouldn't be. 

         The only people who hadn't scream were Voldemort, Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe and Goyle had started slightly, and then resumed their normal brain-dead state. Voldemort, however, looked up at Aragog and remembered him from a long time ago. 

         "Hello, Survivors of the Ominana tribe," the giant spider clicked. 

         "What the flying fuck is that?!" screamed Draco.

          "I'm the world's biggest spider," replied Aragog indignantly.

         "No shit," replied Draco, backing away.

         "You keep that barrage of insults up, I'm going to hunt you down and eat your young, tasty flesh!" 

         Draco gulped. "Just try it now, you big fat mutthead!" he sneered in an attempt to cover up his fear.  

         "Aragog?" mused Voldemort. "You're…"

         The spider was suddenly silent as it heard Voldemort's voice. He was acting as if he was reflecting on something that he had long since forgotten. A few moments later, a rumbling growl came from Aragog. "Tom… Tom Riddle," hissed the spider. "You were the one. You made the great and admirable Rubeus Hagrid expelled. I swear I'll hunt you down and slowly eat you alive." 

         "I don't know what you're referring to," lied Voldemort. "You're not supposed to eat Survivors, and I'd Avada Kedrava you first anyway."

         "Hmph," clicked Aragog huffily. "Back to the more pressing matters of you humans, I am here to announce the next challenge that you all will be facing. You are to report to the cliff marked on the map by 2:00 p.m. today. You must show up. If you fail to do so, you shall lose the Immunity Idol once again. One final notice, it is strongly recommended that you wear swimming attire." After this short speech, Aragog disappeared with a pop.

          "… swimsuits?" whispered Snape in a horrified voice. 

          ***

         In the Bomanina tribe, all was going well. Lupin and Sirius were chatting casually, Hermione was explaining to Neville how the rock she was about to give him would make the perfect pet for him, Fred and George were swimming lazily in the river, and Ron was staring fixedly at Hermione's emerging feminine figure. Hermione was oblivious of Ron's staring. 

         Suddenly, just as it had in the Ominana tribe, Aragog's image appeared in the air, causing horrified gasps to break out from everyone in the tribe. Ron, however, was beyond himself. His eyes bugged out, and a petrified expression appeared on his face. Then strangled noise came from his mouth. He then keeled over in a dead faint. 

         "Ron?" yelled Hermione, rushing to Ron's side. "Are you ok? Wake up!" She then looked up at giant Aragog looming over them, who looked very intimidating. Now, she felt a fraction of the terror that Ron and Harry must have felt in their second year. 

          "Oh, holy God in heaven," gasped Sirius. "I've never seen anything like that!" 

         "Hmph," said Aragog. "I am Aragog. I am here to inform you of the next challenge. You are to report to the cliff marked on your map at 2:00 p.m. You must be there. If not, you will lose your Immunity. A final notice- it is strongly suggested you wear swimsuit gear." Then Aragog disappeared. 

         Sirius looked, puzzled, at Lupin. Lupin returned the puzzled look, and then gave it to everyone else. They shrugged. 

         "Swim suit gear.." mused Fred. "Hmm.. it's gotta involve swimming. Whoo-hoo, George, we get to show off our manly selves!" 

         Hermione rolled her eyes.

         ***

         At two o' clock that very day, with the brute force of the sun bearing down upon them, the Ominana tribe and the Bomanina tribe stood twenty feet apart from each other on top of a huge, rocky cliff. They were rather close to the edge of the cliff. A hundred feet below the cliff was a huge lake. Each Survivor on both tribes were very apprehensive of what was to come- excluding Crabbe and Goyle.  

         Most of them still had their robes on. Fred and George, however, had flung their robes off and were sporting violently purple swimming trunks. They were dancing around exuberantly and flexing their biceps. 

         Neville was sitting on the rocky ground, clutching his new pet rock and whispering sweet nothings to it. 

         Voldemort and Snape were standing side-by-side, shifting very uneasily in their robes. Suddenly, Dobby the house elf appeared in front of them all, holding a Muggle doll, which apparently was his Portkey. Lupin deducted this since house elves weren't allowed to Apparate. 

         "H-h-hello, sirs and miss!" squeaked Dobby to the Survivors in front of him. "Dobby is here to announce the second challenge!" He beckoned to the cliff behind him, and the huge expanse of water that resided a hundred feet below them. 

         "Well, what is it?" Snape snarled. 

         "The challenge is you must be jumping off the cliff, swimming to the crate in the middle of the water, one at a time! And the next Survivor cannot jump into the water until the survivor in front of them has reached the crate! And when they all have reached the crate, each tribe to a crate, you must be swimming under the water and unhooking the crate, and be floating down the whitewater rapids very fast and then be carrying the crate across the beach to the finish line!" Dobby finished, panting. 

         The tribes stared at him. 

         "That's… ludicrous," said Sirius. 

          "Yeah," agreed Harry. "What Sirius said."

         And most every one else nodded. 

         "You cannot be wearing your robes," said Dobby. "You must is taking them off." 

         Fred and George shrugged. "No problem, look at us!" 

         Everyone else except Voldemort and Snape nicked off their robes. Then they looked at the remaining robed Survivors.

         "Um.. Voldy? Snapey?" said Sirius in a fake sweet voice. "You need to get those off."

         "Don't tell me what to do, Black!" snarled Snape, flipping Sirius off. Sirius was only too happy to return the finger.

          "Mister Snape, mister Voldemort? You is must taking off your robes now, or you is being Disqualified!" squeaked Dobby.

         Voldemort growled, and Snape sneered. They both looked very much liked they wished to kill Dobby. And then, very reluctantly, they took off their robes.

         And upon this, Harry and Sirius fell to the ground, laughing hysterically. 

         ***

         Suddenly, the image of Sirius and Harry crying with mirth faded out of sight, and Aragog the spider came into view. "Ah… unfortunately," he clicked, not at all sounding unhappy. "Our time for today's episode is up! Tune in next week to see what happens! 

         ***


	9. Episode Seven: Ron goes mad

The Wizard Survivor Show 

**EPISODE SEVEN**

          "Hellos, sirs and misses! Dobby the house elf is here to be summarizing the events that were having been happened last week! The Ominana and Bomanina tribe is getting ready for the second challenge, and it is a real doozy, sirs and misses! But, most unluckily, the time ran out and we were having to stop the show! Now, we is showing it again! This is a two hour special, so it's going to be as twice as long!" squeaked the ever-lovable Dobby. He glanced up warily at Aragog, who was again rocking back and forth slowly. The house-elf realized the spider had fallen asleep. Very relieved of this fact, Dobby put his hand on the bikini-clad Barbie Doll in front of him, and he vanished from sight.

         ***

         The camera cut to Dobby's appearing on a sweltering hot expanse of rock. It panned around, revealing the members of the two tribes of _Wizard Survivor_.

         Sirius was on the ground, completely ignorant of the fact that the baking stone was scalding his skin. He was laughing hysterically. Harry was fifteen feet away from him, engaged in the same actions as Sirius. 

         Voldemort shifted uneasily, attempting to cover up his swimming trunks with colorless arms. He blushed as everyone got a full view of his shorts. They were white with little green snakes along with the phrase "I love snakes" printed all over it. This was highly amusing to everyone except Voldemort. He realized his reputation as the world's most evil Dark Lord was going to be in ruins after he was done with this forsaken show. Voldemort shot everyone his most menacing glare. 

         Snape was just as humorous to look at. He had green shorts with diagonal black stripes on them. It faintly reminded Hermione of op art, and hurt her eyes to look at it. Snape scowled at anyone who appeared to even be slightly amused.

 Sirius laughed even harder than ever. Fred and George were guffawing, and Ron, who'd been concernedly watching Neville cuddle his rock, shifted his gaze towards Snape. Loud sniggering issued forth from Ron upon seeing his Potions professor in that particular attire. Even Lupin was giggling. He hastily covered his mouth with a hand and tried his best to look dignified and unaffected by the scene.

         A faint pink tinge appeared at the top of Snape's cheeks. He narrowed his eyes.

         "_OH LORD!_" roared Sirius, who was still on the ground, incapitated with fits of unrestrained laughter. "LOOK! HE'S BLUSHING!"

          "Shut the bloody hell up," snapped Snape. 

         Behind him, Snape's favorite student let out some snickers, which were hastily turned into some hacking coughs.

          "Draco! You're laughing at me?!" yelled Snape, whirling around to meet him. Draco looked up unabashedly at Snape, his face turning red with the effort it took him to keep from laughing. He nervously looked around for something else, and spotted Voldemort, and started laughing at him instead. 

         "There, that's better," muttered Snape, turning around. 

         Voldemort, however, widened his red eyes menacingly. "Draco… you'll suffer if you continue laughing at me. I mean it." 

         More laughter.

         "I'll date your mother."

         Draco shut up. 

         "Good little boy," purred Voldemort. He then absentmindedly started smearing great big gobs of sunblock all over his face and bald head with one hand,  holding the sunblock bottle in the other hand. The others could very easily see the SPF printed on it, which stated "100." 

         "My pretty little rock.. want some sunblock too?" crooned Neville happily. 

          Ron looked uneasily at Neville. "I don't think he's qualified to be a Survivor… he's kinda loopy, if y'know what I mean."

         Neville, unfortunately, heard Ron's remark. He burst into hysterical tears, flinging his rock away. Upon realizing he'd thrown his precious new pet away, he started to wail.

         "Neville, Nevvie, calm down!" gasped Hermione, walking over to Neville. 

         As she walked, the Weasley brothers couldn't help gaping at her, as since she was the only female on the show now. 

         She'd be in for the very bad indeed. 

         Ron, however, couldn't control himself. He ran over to Neville, and attempted to choke him with his hands.

         "NO, RON, NO! DON'T STRANGLE NEVILLE!" cried Hermione, throwing herself on the gone-mad Ron. 

         "He's… driving… me… out of my bloody wits!" grunted Ron through gritted teeth, squeezing his hands around Neville's throat. 

         Harry had stopped laughing and was now rushing over to help Hermione. "My god, Ron, what's got into you?" he exclaimed, yanking hard at Ron's arms. Finally, Harry and Hermione pulled Ron off Neville, who promptly collapsed flat on the ground, gasping for air. 

         "Huh? What'd I do?" said Ron, his eyes starting to become crossed.

         "Ron? Are you ok?" asked Hermione. 

         "Uh… I'm not sure…" mumbled Ron. Hermione was looking rather disproportioned. One of her ears was becoming bigger than the other. The air around him became shimmery and colors were starting to swim around him as if he were inside a whirlpool. The sun felt strangely hot on his head. 

         "_Rooonnnnn? Whaaaaaattt'ssss wrrrroooonnnnnggg? Sooommmmmeeeeonnnne heeeeellllp himmm…IIIIIIIIIIIII thhhhhiiiiiiiiiinkkkkk hheeeeeee'ssssss ssssiiiiiiiccckkk…" _said a blurry Hermione, her mouth moving slowly, her voice sounding strangely drawn out as if time were slowing down. 

          "_Ronnnnn, doooo youuuu wannnnttt toooooo siiiitttt dowwwwwnnn? Shouuullld I giiiveee you aaaaa kiiiiick?"_ echoed Harry. He kicked Ron, causing him to swear vehemently in pain. 

         "Um… I'm not quite sure… but Hermione's head looks bigger than normal, dammit, it's giving me a headache," grumbled Ron, glaring uncertainly at Harry. The wild, distorted colors swirling around Ron were growing brighter and brighter. Suddenly, he thought he heard some sort of eerie music wavering throughout the air, and then all of a sudden, the colors faded away and blackness invaded his vision.

         ***

         "Oh, bloody fuck," said Hermione, rather out of character for her. Harry stared at her in amazement. 

         "Did you say 'bloody fuck?'" repeated Harry. 

         "Yeah, what's it to you?" snapped Hermione. "Ron's passed out!" she said angrily, indicating Ron's unconscious figure sprawled out on the stone. 

         Dobby squeaked. "If he is not being able to do this challenge, he is being disqualified! If you cannot be waking him up, Mediwizards is coming to be taking him off the show!" 

         Snape angrily called Harry back over to the Ominana tribe. Harry glared at Snape, and then whispered to Hermione, "Make sure he's alright." Then he got up, looked at Ron's unconscious figure, and walked sulkily to the Ominanas. 

         "You walk off to the Bomaninas like that one more time, and you're really going to get it!" hissed Draco. Snape and Voldemort nodded, glaring pointedly at him. 

         "Screw you all," replied Harry. "At least, I'm the only good looking one in this tribe," he added truthfully. Voldemort and Snape were obviously not pretty. Draco was much too pale for the sun, and his orange swimming trunks clashed with his silver-blonde hair. ("Nice shorts, Draco," Harry muttered with sarcasm.) And Crabbe and Goyle, who were wearing plain black trunks weren't exactly qualified to be in "Who's Sexy? These Wizards Are!" (which was another wizard entertainment program.) The hair on their chests could have been mistaken for roadkill.

         Snape and Voldemort advanced on Harry, daggers shooting from their eyes. 

         "You…. say anything of that sort again, and I'll personally make sure I'll murder you when we get out of this .. goshdarned show!" hissed Voldemort, hiking up his "I love Snakes" shorts. 

         "Right… you've tried to do that, like four or five times now?" 

         "I mean it this time!" insisted Voldemort. 

         "Surrrrrre-" said Harry jeeringly, but at that next point, Draco lost control. He dashed towards Harry and punched him in the solar plexus, resulting in Harry's doubling over and moaning in pain. He was quite unfit to make fun of Voldemort or Snape now. 

         The Bominanas, unable to revive Ron, had to stand by helplessly and mournfully while Mediwizards appeared out of thin air and put Ron on a carrier, and then disappeared into the air once more. 

         "Poor Ron," chorused everyone except Neville, who was engaged in evil laughter. No one noticed this strange new trait of Neville. 

         "Sirs and misses!" squeaked Dobby, leaping into the air to attain everyone's attention. When he had gotten that, he stood up straight. "Dobby is telling the second challenge now! You is all having heards the rules! You is remembering that you is jumping a hundred feet into the water, one at a time, and you is swimming towards your tribe's crate, and you is must waiting there until everyone is reaching the crate! And then you is swimming underwater and unhooking the crate, and then you is floating down white water rapids, and then you is carrying your two hundred kilo crate across the finish line!" 

          Everyone groaned. Each one of them was thinking, 'Why, oh why in heaven and hell did I enter to be in this show?' 

         "You is ready?" asked Dobby happily.

         Everyone sullenly nodded their heads. Snape frantically asked Voldemort if he could 'possibly borrow some of his sun block.' He got it and rubbed it all over exposed skin. Harry, who couldn't help watching this like he couldn't help watching Voldemort put on flip-flops, shuddered at the sight of Snape rubbing sunlotion on his hairy and sallow-colored, painfully skinny legs. 

         "Ready? You must is making sure who is swimming or not!" 

         Everyone nodded again, unsure what Dobby exactly meant.

         Dobby raised a little golden pistol into the air "Ready? Get, det… GO!" he yelped, firing the gun with a loud, thunderous crack. 

         "Aaagh! Who goes first? Wait- weakest, slowest swimmers first!" Sirius yelped, dragging Neville (who didn't even have time to react to Sirius's 'weak, slow' swimmers remark) to the edge of the cliff. "Swim, you! Swim as fast as you can, dammit!" 

         Neville looked down at the water a hundred feet out of him, and he moaned out of fright. "Nooo!" he cried despairingly.          

          "YES!" Lupin said, promptly shoving Neville off the cliff. As Neville fell, he uttered a piercing scream that made everyone's ears ring painfully. 

         Over in the Ominana tribe, Draco had shoved Crabbe off the cliff first. When he hit the water, Crabbe sank like a stone to the depths of the lake. 

          "Ohhh, fuck," said Draco. "GET THOSE MEDIWIZARDS!"

         A Mediwizard wearing a hovering belt appeared above the water, and dove into the water. In a minute, he came out, carrying a drowned Crabbe, and then he immediately disappeared into thin air. 

         Meanwhile, Neville had landed into the water with a belly flop. Amazingly, this didn't knock him unconscious. He took to floundering around in the water and splashing frantically like a drowning rat. 

         "NEVILLE! DAMMIT! SWIM!" yelled Fred from a hundred feet above him. 

         "Waaah!" wailed Neville, who nonetheless started a feeble dog paddle towards the crate in the middle of the lake. 

         While the Bomaninas apprehensively watched Neville's slow journey towards the crate, Draco had thrown Goyle off the cliff as well. 

          It was déjà vu. Draco gritted his teeth as yet another Mediwizard fished a drowned Goyle out of the lake and disappeared with him.

         He wasn't aware that behind him, Snape and Voldemort were rejoicing now that Draco's cronies were gone. 

         The Slytherins whirled about on Harry. "You. Jump. NOW!" 

         Harry shrugged, and ran up to the cliff. Once reaching the edge of the cliff, he sprang off and eased into a graceful dive, sailing down the one hundred feet to the water. The wind caught him, and flipped him onto his back ten feet above the water, and he landed on his back with a loud splat. 

Harry's piercing screams echoed throughout the water-filled canyon. 

         "SWIM, INSOLENT BOY! SWIM!" screamed Voldemort's voice far above him. 

           "Fine, fine, dammit," groaned Harry. He forced himself to swim, and in a few minutes, he easily caught up to Neville, who was still dog-paddling. After he passed Neville, he reached the crate in about a half minute. 

         Draco was the next to leap into the water. He did not land on his back, and soon, he had reached the crate. Harry was holding onto one side, glaring pointedly at Draco, and getting a glare in return. 

         A few moments after Draco, Neville had reached the other crate, panting heavily. 

         Now, Snape and Sirius had leapt off the cliff at the same time. Once splashing down into the water, they glared at each other furiously, and then began swimming frantically, each determined to beat the other. 

         Who got to the crate first? Our dear Sirius, of course!

         Since Voldemort was the last remaining member of the Ominanas, the rest of the Bomaninas were allowed to jump off at the same time. Once hitting water, the Bomaninas swam well, but Voldemort, whose thin limbs were utterly useless for stroking, dove underwater and began to slither like a snake through the water. He was pretty fast, and in a moment, he had reached the Ominanas at their crate. 

         "What do we do now?" asked Draco, puzzled. 

         "Um.. dammit, we have to unhook the crate!" said Snape. 

         "I, the Dark Lord, shall do that," declared Voldemort. He flipped over, and dove into the water, but not before everyone got a full view of his swimming trunks with his white legs sticking into the air. 

          "Ewww," said Harry. Snape shuddered. 

         Meanwhile, the Bomaninas had finally reached their crate, and Sirius swam underwater to unhook their crate. Sirius worked quickly to unhook the crate, and soon, they were floating towards the river which led out of the canyon. 

         "Voldemort, you insipid fool, work more quickly!" snarled Snape. 

         Suddenly, the crate shuddered, and began to move. Voldemort's white head popped out of the water, his eyes narrowed and staring at Snape. "Sound does carry underwater, you know?" 

         "Eep," said Snape. He looked around nervously, then said quickly, "That was Harry!"

         Harry opened his mouth, working it furiously, yet nothing came out. 

         "I'm going to get you, boy!" snarled Voldemort. 

         "Alright, Voldie, let's just get this moving!" 

          "Don't me Voldie. Anyone who calls me 'Voldie' automatically gets a spot on my to-kill list." 

          They drifted behind the Bomaninas, staring apprehensively at the white rapids that lay ahead of them. 

         Soon, the Bomaninas had reached the whitewater, and the Ominanas could hear them cursing and screaming as if in pain. They wondered what the cause of their seeming agony could be.

         Most unfortunately, they found out why.

         "ARRRRGH!" screamed Snape. "OW! OW! OW!"

         Harry was groaning sharply every second, and Voldemort looked intensely livid. Draco was making well use of his knowledge of swear words in several languages. 

         "_MERDE! ISTE! DAMMIT! MON DEUI! FUCK! MIERDO!" _

          The whitewater had turned out to be only a mere foot deep, and sharp, jagged rocks laid the bottom of the river, scratching their backends severely. 

         Much to everyone's relief, they soon reached a pool of deep water. The Bomaninas, having gotten their first, were alreadly lugging out their crate. 

          "Come on!" snapped Snape, and they all frantically pushed the crate to the shore. Once reaching, they heaved the crate out of the water, and found out how heavy it was. 

         "Oh, hell! Why in hell did bloody Crabbe and bloody Goyle have to bloody drown?" grunted Draco, perspiring heavily as he carried one edge of the crate. They were dashing as fast as they could carrying the crate, trying to reach the Bomaninas. But the Bomaninas were too far ahead, and they'd never reach surpass them in time. 

         "Those fools… I shall kill them," said Voldemort angrily.

         "Come on! Run!" said Snape, sweat pouring from him. 

         Harry wanted to turn around and simply upchuck on the ground. 

         Suddenly, in the Bomanina tribe, Neville had slipped on the sand, falling down and taking everyone else down with him. 

         "Eep, sorry!" squeaked Neville. Everyone growled at him. 

         They managed to heave up the crate again, but not before the Ominanas miraculously caught up with them. Soon, they were engaged in a neck-to-neck race for the finish line, which was consisted of a gateway through two flaming torches. The finish line was marked by a swatch of toilet paper. 

         Suddenly, both tribes fell at the same time. There was a nasty _CRACK_ which resonated throughout the air. 

          Everyone tersely held their breaths, hoping that sound had been a snapped stick or something.

         But, Fred's hysterical yells filled the air, and George had stood up, hopping madly and pointing at Fred's leg, which was pinned under the crate. Fred continued to yell horribly. 

         "FRED!" screamed George, and in an act of superhuman strength, he lifted the crate off the ground with one arm, and pulled Fred away from the crate with the other arm. "FRED?! FRED!" 

         "No, I'm not ok!" cried Fred in an abnormally high voice, his face white. He looked down at his left leg, and saw that the lower leg was snapped in half. Bone fragments were sticking painfully through his skin. "Oh… man…" he moaned. A moment later, he closed his eyes, shuddering with pain. 

         Everyone in the Bomanina tribe cursed under their breaths. "A mediwizard'll come get him! Let's go!" screamed Hermione, finally.

          "No! I can't leave him!" cried George, tears welling up in his eyes. 

         "GEORGE! HE'LL BE OK! A MEDIWIZARD'LL GET HIM!"

         A Mediwizard popped out of the air to prove Hermione. He opened the barely conscious Fred's mouth and poured a steaming potion down his throat. Immediately, Fred fell asleep and his groans of pain ceased. Then the Mediwizard magicked him onto a stretcher, and disappeared into thin air.  

         George, who was now crying hysterically, reluctantly picked his corner of the crate up, and he, Hermione, Lupin, and Sirius began to run frantically, attempting to catch up to the Ominanas, who were ahead of them now. 

         But, alas, it was too late. The Ominanas reached the finish line before them, and they were all screaming gleefully, with the exception of Harry, who was standing aside and sulking. 

         The scene faded away into blackness, and soon, Dobby and Aragog came back into view. 

         "Well, from what I could hear, those screams sounded like one of them died," clicked Aragog. "Maybe I could eat their remains?" he asked hopefully. 

         "NO! THEY'RE NOT DEAD, DAMMIT!" screamed Miss Baker, the director of the show. 

         "Damn," hissed Aragog. "Wish I had Hagrid here, he could bring me an elephant or something."

         Dobby squeaked. "A-a-a-a-aragog," he said fearfully. "None of the sirs and misses is dead! Crabbe, Goyle, Ron, and Fred are out of the show now, due to being very badly hurts! Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle is both having drowned, and both was having Mediwizards rescue them! Ron is being suffering from.." he squeaked, looking down at a piece of paper. "Sunstroke! And Fred is broken his leg! They is all at St. Mungo's hospital!" 

          "Thought that was a loony bin," commented Aragog. 

         "It's for mad people and injured people," said Miss Baker through gritted teeth. 

         "You downsize one of my comments one more time, I'm going to eat you!" threatened Aragog, clicking his jaws. 

         "You'll be kicked off the show!" raged Miss Baker. 

         "That's it! Here I come!" growled Aragog, throwing forth his massive body bulk without warning. Screams issued from the crew in the studio as the blind giant spider went on a rampage, attempting to find the director by smell. 

         "GET HIM AWAY! FUCK! PUT HIM DOWN! PUT HIM DOWN!" screeched Miss Baker. 

         It took the forces of a dozen wizards to stun Aragog. When Aragog fell and hit the floor with his tonnage, the entire building shook. Debris rained down from the ceiling, and the larger fragments that fell hit and knocked twenty or so people unconscious. 

         "Bloody mangy hell," cursed Miss Baker. "On with the show."

          Dobby squeaked nervously as a falling piece of the ceiling missed him by millimeters. "Dobby is here now! Be paying attention to Dobby. Now, the Ominanas won the second challenge! Now, they is getting the Immunity Idol, while the Bomaninas is must having to vote out their first member! Due to Survivor's injuries, the Ominanas are down to four people- Snape, Voldemort, Harry, and Draco; and the Bomaninas, having lost Ron and Fred, are now down to Remus, Sirius, Hermione, Neville, and George! Now, we is going to the weird Pagan voting booth!" 

         The camera cut to Dobby's appearing in the weird Pagan surrounding. It was night, and the tall rocks loomed around him in a circle, lit by flickering torches. Dobby looked at his watch. Soon, the Bomaninas wandered in, each holding a torch. They all possessed sullen faces. George, however, was beyond himself in hysterics. He was sobbing loudly and tears were pouring down his face. Hermione and Sirius actually had to help George walk into the weird Pagan area. 

          "Come on now," said Hermione soothingly. "It's ok, now." 

         George began to mutter indistinguishable words. It sounded like he was singing something. 

          "George, you're scaring me, please calm down." 

         "Bye byyye… Miss American Pie…. I was driving my Cheviiii to the Levviii and me and Fred were drinking whiskey and ryeee… he's gonna die… I'm gonna die… I can't liiiveee…" wailed George, who dissolved into tears again. 

         By now, they had all sat down in their seats, in front of Dobby. 

         "WAAAAAAAAH! I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT FRED!" screamed George suddenly, making everyone jump. He then screamed a series of violent swear words. 

         "I think I know who we're voting out," muttered Sirius to Lupin. "I'd feel fucking guilty if we kept him on the show in his state."

         Lupin nodded mournfully. 

         Neville, who was sitting apart from everyone else, was laughing maliciously to himself. His quiet, almost evil laughter was unheard by the others.

         Hermione was frantically patting George on the back, trying to comfort him. "It's ok! It's ok! God, it's ok! Really! They've probably got his leg mended by now! He's probably watching you!" 

          "WAAAAAAAAH! HE'S GONNA SEE ME CRY! WAAAAAAAH!" 

         "Stop it! Stop crying!" screeched Neville suddenly.  

         George wailed even more loudly. 

         ***

         Dobby took the top hat, and looked into it.  All the Bomaninas stared at him. There was a pregnant silence. They all knew exactly what the results of the votes would be. 

         "George, George, George, George, and George," announced Dobby, pulling each person's vote. "Unanimous. George's gone. The Tribe has Spoken." 

         "What kind of ridiculous statement is that?" exclaimed Lupin. "_The Tribe has Spoken?_" he repeated, mimicking Dobby, who looked very hurt.

         "Oh thank the gods of mischief! I don't have to remain on this godawful show!" wailed George, bursting into tears. 

         "Bring your torch to Dobby," ordered Dobby. "Dobby is having to put it out." 

         George, sniffling got up and approached Dobby with his torch. 

         "Your torch is out, sir George!" exclaimed Dobby. 

         George looked at his torch. It indeed was out, and was filled with sloshing water. "Eh?" He'd cried so much that he'd put out his own torch. 

          "Well, you is saving Dobby trouble," said Dobby, shrugging. "You is must walking onto that bridge and you is can talk to the camera, if you want!" 

          "WHY CAN'T YOU TALK IN NORMAL ENGLISH, YOU ARSE OF AN HOUSE ELF?!" screamed George. He burst into another drawn-out wail, and then ran off the set, sobbing hysterically. 

         Hermione had puffed out her chest. "That was bigoted! House-elves shouldn't be talked to like that! That's another thing for S.P.E.W!" She opened her mouth to continue ranting about elf rights, but got sharp glares from her fellow Survivors. 

         "Do that, you're gonna be next!" said Neville, his eyes widening. 

         "Eep," muttered Hermione. 

         "You is must walking back to your camps!" declared Dobby, who then picked up his Barbie doll and disapparated. 

         Everyone sighed heavily, grabbed their torches, and walked off the Pagan setting.  

         ***


	10. Episode Eight: Draco in pink boxers.

The Wizard Survivor Show

EPISODE EIGHT 

***

          Dobby blinked his huge green eyes as he stared into the camera that was facing him. "Hellos, sirs and misses! Dobby is here to tell you of the events that is happening on last week's episode!" 

         As he spoke, the camera moved away from Dobby to reveal the monstrous Aragog, who had been tied down with steel cables. He was in this state as so to prevent him from attempting any more killing rampages or eating the director. Meanwhile, Aragog was snarling and hissing furiously, splattering spider saliva and venom all over the poor house-elf commentator. 

         "Ewww! Dobby is not liking that!" whimpered Dobby as a particularly large glob of venom landed in his eye. "Ow! That is hurting very badly!" the house elf squealed hysterically as the venom began to act like an acid agent, eating away at his ocular orb. The elf squealed so loudly that several of the crew members dashed forward to help Dobby out of his predicament. They were able to get the stuff out of Dobby's eye. Unfortunately, they became fresh victims of Aragog when one of his legs broke free, snatched the two of them up, and promptly ate them. 

          After this had ensued, Dobby stared at the acromantula, stiff with fright. 

          "ARGH! STUPID SPIDER!" Ms. Baker screamed at her crew. "TIE HIM DOWN! TIE HIM DOWN! IMMOBILIZE HIM, YOU INSOLENT FOOLS!"

         "You're abusing Aragog!" she heard someone holler. A chorus of angry cries met this statement. Miss Baker turned in around, and to her amazement, there was a small group of thirty or forty wizards in front of her, all brandishing banners and signs that said stuff like "SPIDERS ARE PEOPLE TOO!" and "DON'T SWEAR AT SPIDERS!" and "I LOVE SPIDERS, YOU DON'T, YOU'RE GOING TO DIE, DARN YOU TO HECK!" 

         "Oh, god… bleeding hearts of the world united… they'll bring an end to us someday," muttered Miss Baker. "You're defending that thing? That monster?" she asked the group.  

         "DAMN IT! HE'S NOT A MONSTER! HE'S A PERSON WHO'S GOT FEELINGS TOO!" 

         "Yeah… I've got a feeling that I wish to eat someone right now," drawled Aragog. 

         Miss Baker's mouth hung open for a moment. Then she shook out of it. "OUT! OUT OF HERE, ALL OF YOU! THIS IS MY MULTI-MILLION POUND STUDIO! OUT!!!!" she raged. 

         "Not unless you promise to be nice to Aragog and release him!" 

         "You want Aragog?" asked Miss Baker. "Fine, you can have him. Go ahead and free him."

         "YAY!" screamed one of the people in the mob.

         "FREE ARAGOG! FREE ARAGOG!!!!" chanted the rest of the activists. 

         "LET'S GO RELEASE HIM SO HE CAN LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER!" shouted another, rushing forward to the elephant-sized, blind spider. 

         Several minutes of loud, crunching, horrible noises later, a half-inch of blood filled the entire studio. Aragog was still tied down, and he looked rather self-satisfied now. Now, with human blood splattered all over him, he looked even more menacing. Fresh human bones were littered on the ground below his enormous fangs, which were all that remained of the spider-rights activists.

         "Oh, for the gods' sake! My beautiful million-galleon studio ruined!" wailed Miss Baker, not giving a damn for the spider-rights people. "It's going to take a few hundred thousand galleons worth of Magical Mess Remover to clean all this gore up…damn arses." She swore for several minutes, and then finally beckoned for the show to proceed. 

         Dobby, who was visibly quivering with fear now, stared dolefully into the camera. He was drenched in blood that'd been sprayed on him while Aragog was devouring his "saviors." 

         "W-w-w-w-w-we is s-s-s-starting the sh-sh-show now… a-a-a-a-and to… to-to-to s-s-summarize events f-f-from last week, a-a-a-a lot is been happening on the show!" stuttered Dobby, a tear trickling down his face. "E-e-e-ach tribe is down to four Survivors each, and now things is expecting to get messy now!"

         "Start the show," said Miss Baker wearily. 

         ***

         Lupin, Sirius, Hermione, and Neville were huddled around a small, yellow fire. Pitch-dark blackness surrounded them, and they couldn't see anything beyond each other's faces. The light from the fire caused shadows to flicker across their faces, causing them to look more depressed and morose than normal. 

         "Well, we lost that challenge," spoke up Lupin at last. 

         "Yes. I hope Ron's alright," whispered Hermione. 

         "And Fred.. and George," added Sirius, nodding solemnly. "That was bad. Especially the sound of his leg breaking.. that was just too horrible." 

         Neville just nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling maliciously. But no one noticed. A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. 

          "Should we just go to sleep now?" suggested Hermione. 

         "Yeah, that should be for the best," sighed Sirius. They trudged off to their tent and laid themselves down on the ground. Hermione had her own area of the tent that was branched off from the men's with a blanket suspended on a piece of rope. 

         "Night," whispered Hermione to herself as she listened to everyone else settling down. She closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep. 

         ***

         Hermione was dreaming, a most strange dream. She was flying without any means of magical assistance- pure and simple flying! It was amazing; she was just barely skimming the tops of a field full of vividly colored wildflowers. There was a mist hanging above her, and an eerily haunting music was coming from everywhere. 

         A glowing apparition appeared some ways from her. It turned out to be a glowing white horse galloping towards her. There was a person riding on top it that she faintly recognized. 

         In an instant, the horse and rider was at her side. The mysterious stranger leaned over into her ear and whispered: "You're beautiful, so beautiful… your loveliness transcends that of the mere flowers beneath our feet… I don't believe I've ever met someone so wonderful… so clever…" 

          "Oh, am I?" giggled Hermione, very flattered. She felt the person grasp her hand and kiss it lightly. Then putting a stronger hold on her hand, the person lifted her arm and slowly, deliberately, kissed it all the way up her arm. Hermione giggled even harder still. The entrancing stranger kissed upwards, up her neck and on her ear.

         "I do adore you," whispered the horse-riding stranger. "Kiss me. Kiss me, my angel." 

          And Hermione did nothing to resist, as the misty stranger wrapped his arms around her torso and enveloped her into a sizzling, passionate kiss. Hermione's eyes were closed, one arm hung limply at her side. It was just when she opened her eyes, that the misty blur surrounding the person disappeared and everything around her faded away into blackness… her mind returned to reality. She felt hard ground underneath her legs… strange, she'd been sleeping sitting up.

         "What an illogical dream that was-" Hermione started to think, when she realized she was still lip-locked with someone. "Huh?" she managed to gasp, pushing the person away slightly. This only, however, prompted the person to kiss her even more forcedly. 

         "Hey, get away from me," protested Hermione, pushing the person away with more force now. 

         "Come on, Hermione.. you're so beautiful," said a horribly recognizable voice. 

          "What the bloody hell?" gasped Hermione, squinting into the darkness. Her heart was beating wildly. She desperately hoped that wasn't who she thought it was… 

         Neville Longbottom leaned into her face. "How did you like that? You seemed to be enjoying it rather nicely."

         Hermione let out a long, piercing scream that woke up every dormant creature for miles around. So, it wasn't without surprise that Sirius and Lupin woke up as well. 

         "HERMIONE?!" Loud crashing noises could be heard as Sirius thrashed about to get up. A second later, he came rushing over to find out what the matter was. 

         Hermione had backed up away from Neville, pointing at him with a trembling finger, eyes wide with horror. "He-he-he!" she managed to gasp out. 

         "He what?" asked Lupin worriedly, who'd just come into view too. 

         "HE KISSED ME! HE SNOGGING ME!" squealed Hermione.

          "W-w-hat are you saying?" stuttered Neville, looking much like his normal self. "I-I-was trying to sleep and I heard her crying, it sounded like she was having a nightmare… I didn't do anything!" After this, Neville burst into tears. 

          "Hermione, are you sure you didn't have a bad dream? If it was, I'm going to be pissed off because I was having a rather…erm.. pleasant dream," growled Sirius. 

          Hermione stared open-mouthed at Neville, who looked innocently back. Sirius and Lupin cast each other concerned looks, shaking their heads. Hermione heard Lupin whisper faintly: "You don't think all this is getting to her head, do you?" They turned back into their side of the tent.. Neville smirked and leered at Hermione.

         "They'll never believe I did something like that," Neville mouthed in the dim tent. 

         "Get out of my sight," Hermione hissed.

         "We can save that for later," crooned Neville. 

         Trying to push away the horrible images that immediately conjured themselves in her mind, Hermione gasped with horror. "You! Out! Out, now! Get out!" 

          "By the way, nice underwear you have… I was just looking through your  knapsack. So, that's the one luxury you decided to bring on the show? Betcha Victoria's Secret stuff looks great on you," said Neville sinisterly, holding up a lacy pink thong panty. 

         "What the hell? That's not mine!" cried Hermione truthfully. 

         "Can you prove it?" smirked Neville. 

         "Wait- what the fuck? You were going through my bag? I'm going to kill you, you pervert!"

         "You can't. I'm Neville. I'm that simpering, innocent little boy… you can't get me. I'm _Neville," _he said, his eyes glittering evilly. "I'm going to get that fifty thousand galleons. You can't stop me." 

         Hermione opened her mouth to gasp, but thought better and closed it. She instead fixed a cold glare into him. Neville just smiled sinisterly in return, and then ducked under the blanket to the men's side. 

          "Oh… my god.." whispered Hermione. Then she realized that Neville's lips had been touching her lips. "SHITE!" 

          She ran out of the tent to scrub her mouth in the river. 

          ***

           Harry Potter awoke to a faint, distant scream in the night. He thought it was probably his imagination, but it had sounded like it came from Hermione. Probably it was an owl or something… if there were owls in Australia. Shaking his head, he looked up at the new moon through the tent flap. The moon was nothing more than a small, thin curved line in the sea of stars that stretched over his heads. These stars were totally different and foreign.. different constellations, different patterns.. it was eerie. They weren't like the stars that hung over England. He supposed that it was probably daylight up there right now. 

         Unable to force himself to go back to sleep, he sat up in the tent. He could hear Lord Voldemort faintly muttering under his breath. "… _haha, Potter, how do you like that? Want some more of the Cruciatus Curse? Oh, damn, you got out of the way.. well, let me send my pet manticore upon you, you'd like that wouldn't you? Yes, mah precious Manticore, make out with him! Make him scream for mercy! Mwuahahaha!" _

         Harry shuddered, and looked at Professor Snape, who was across the tent. Snape was rolling around in his sleep, snoring loudly. Damn. Snape sure could snore. He was shocked that he had been able to sleep through it. 

         Draco didn't seem to be anywhere in the tent. This puzzled Harry, as since it seemed to be past midnight now. Sighing, he realized he was fully awake and had no hope of resuming sleep, so he got up and walked out of the tent. The stars shone brilliantly down on Harry as he trudged down the sand to the river. He was pretty thirsty.. he'd get some water.

         Suddenly, he saw a figure standing in the water. With nothing but starlight to aid his vision, he realized it was Draco. 

          In the nude. 

         "Oh, _shitet,_" whispered Harry under his breath. "Holy shite." 

         Draco didn't appear to hear this.

         Harry noticed Draco's robes were on the sand about five feet away. An idea appeared in his mind, and he grinned to himself. 

***    

Several minutes later, Harry watched Draco's clothes on a log float downstream. Giggling to himself, he crawled back to the tent, taking care to avoid being noticed by Draco, who apparently, was still enjoying his little skinny-dipping exercise.

         What felt like an eternity later, as Harry lay in his uncomfortable sleeping bag, he heard Draco gasping in the distance. Then, a loud, horrified shriek pierced the night. No, that was no owl, Harry thought to himself.

          ***

         Brilliant sunlight cascaded into Snape's eyes. "Damned sunlight," he cursed angrily. "Get off of me, you … bad… sunlight!" 

         The sunlight only shone even more brightly. "Damned," grumbled Snape, as he pulled himself up from his slumber. He felt his face, which he realized had very prickly stubble all over it. He hated to imagine what he would see if he looked into a mirror. Where was his wand when he needed it- oh, wait… the evil bastards have it, he recalled.

         He stumbled outside and headed to the woods to tend to the call of the wild. As he did his business, continuing to grumble and swear under his breath, he heard the bushes behind him rustle. 

          "What the? Who's there?!" snarled Snape, immediately closing his robes. 

         "Professor? It's me, Draco…" whimpered a voice.

         "Draco? What's wrong?"

         "Um.. well.." stammered the voice. Draco's head popped out of the bush, blushing furiously. "I.. need some clothes. I'm not exactly dressed to show. Or rather, I'm dressed to literally show myself."

          "Huh? What're you saying… Where are your clothes?" asked Snape.

         "Well… thing was, I was.. um, taking a bath in the river last night, and.. my clothes disappeared!"

         "Clothes don't just run off and disappear," Draco.

         "They did!" insisted Draco. 

         "I don't think we have any extra clothes…" said Snape, grimacing. 

         Aww.. fuck," groaned Draco. "What am I supposed to do? I haven't got a stitch on me! If Father's watching and he's seen me in this state… gods, I hate to think what he'll do when I go home."

         Snape paused to think for a moment. Clothes, clothes, where could they possibly get clothes? He recalled he had an extra pair of boxer shorts. 

         "Draco, I've got an extra pair of boxers, if you'd-"

         A revolted look came onto Draco's face.

         "They're brand new, I haven't worn them yet," said Snape impatiently.

         "Okay… that's good for now."

         "Wait here while I fetch them," said Snape.

         "What else would you expect me to do? Fucking jump out of the bush and go prancing around, showing all that I am to the entire goddamn wizarding world? To that stupid guy with the camera?!" raged Draco, pointing towards the camera and camera man. 

         The cameraman, deeply offended, scowled at Draco.

         Snape sighed and scurried off to the tent. 

         Draco waited impatiently in the bush. 

         A koala bear dropped down from the tree above him. It looked at him longingly with a perverse look in its eye.

         "Oh, no you don't… I'm not your mate, dammit!" screamed Draco, flinging the koala into a nearby tree, promptly knocking it unconscious (luckily).

         Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Draco, Snape returned with a little black bag. 

         "Well?" asked Draco impatiently.

         "This is the reason I've actually never worn these.." Snape said. He drew out the boxer shorts, and upon seeing the shorts, Draco could not have been any more horrified.

         To begin with, the shorts were a pale pink color, trimmed with layers of hot pink lace and white balloons. Hearts were imprinted all over the fabric, and each heart stated a disgustingly sentimental message like "I love you, don't you love me too?" or "Be my sweetypie!", and then there were some that were just simply nasty, such as, "Screw me, you bastard." 

         "Well? This happens to be your only choice. Or! You can wear one of my already worn, unwashed boxers," asked Snape, raising an eyebrow. 

          "Goh," muttered Draco, who possessed an look of absolute disgust. This was a precarious decision. Which one was worse? That pink, laced abomination or one of his teacher's filthy, used underpants? Which one? They were both blindingly horrible. If he chose to wear those frilly pink underpants, he'd be laughed off the edge of the planet- no, the universe. But, if he picked the dirty underwear, he'd be subject to whatever had contaminated the interior of it! He didn't even want to think about it. 

         He shuddered violently at the thought which rudely pushed itself into his mind. "I'll…. take……the…..frilly…..pink…. ones…" he said through gritted teeth. 

         Snape nodded grimly, and handed over the shorts. 

         ***

_Back at the campsite…_       

For a moment, Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. Snape and Draco were emerging from the woods. And Draco was wearing… brilliant pink boxer shorts! Adorned with lace, to put on top of that! 

         Harry had been standing outside the tent, watching the sun lazily rise into the sky. Voldemort was still in the tent, snoring away. 

         But that had to be the funniest thing he'd ever witnessed in all life. This was even more amusing than when Lockhart Junior's trunks got ripped off.  "AH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!" laughed Harry. Draco, who was about sixty meters away from him, shot him a severe look. Harry continued to laugh so hysterically that he collapsed on the sand in his fits. 

          Draco finally lost control and ran towards Harry. In no time at all, all one could see were flying fists.

         A half hour later, Draco sat on the sand, his right eye purpling rapidly while he cradled  a sprained wrist. Harry was sitting some distance away from him, he was attempting to nurse a badly swollen lip and a broken nose at the same time. 

         Snape shook his head. Draco seemed to have gotten the upper hand in this one… he nodded approvingly when Draco caught his eye. At least he didn't have to assume the responsibilities of a professor, so it hadn't been necessary for him to break it up. Snape smirked. All the better for the purpose of entertainment.

         ***

         Ever since everyone in the Bomanina tribe had woken up that morning, Hermione had been throwing suspicious looks towards Neville, who returned simpering, 'innocent' looks in return. There had to be some way she could pin him down, prove that Neville was evil, but how? Neville had been right in his little speech the previous night- he was in essence, "Neville." He was that short, stocky kid who stammered and didn't really have a bright mind. It was unbelievable he'd managed to last this long… but now Hermione knew the real reason. Under that timid exterior of his, he had a cold, shrewd, calculating mind. Knowing that worried Hermione, but she steeled her nerves for whatever would come next.

         When Sirius and Lupin's back were turned, Neville winked at Hermione, who mouthed, "Sod off." Neville responded with a smacking kiss, his eyes glittering maliciously.

         "What was that sound?" asked Sirius, turning around.

         "Oh-oh, I had something stuck in my teeth," whimpered Neville. 

         Hermione stared at him with cold fury.

         ***

         Finally, Dobby's image appeared in the air. Displaying his image to both tribes at the same time, he simply announced, "You is must being at the ravine at noon today. And bring your appetites!" 

         "Bring our appetites? Now, that's something!" said Sirius, his stomach rumbling loudly. "The only thing we've been eating is mushy rice for the past four days!" 

         Over in the Ominana tribe, Voldemort was saying the exact same thing. He added as an afterthought, "I can't wait to go back to eating my lovely quarter kilo steaks when we get off this damned show." 

         "_Quarter kilo_ _steaks?!_" screeched Harry. "You'd explode if you ate a quarter kilo of steak!"

         "Well, I'm alive, aren't I, Potter?" said Voldemort menacingly. "And you won't be, when I try to kill you, when we get off this damned show!"

         "We'll see," Harry snorted. 

         *** 

         At noon, the two tribes stood under the blazing sun, sweating profusely. They had made sure to bring their appetite. There was no way they couldn't have not brought their appetites.

         Suddenly, Dobby Apparated once more with his Portkey Barbie. "Hello, sirs and misses! Well, miss, since there is only one of you, miss!" he said, eyeing Hermione.

          "Yeah. That's not exactly a good thing," muttered Hermione. She caught Harry's eye from across the area, and looked at him desperately. Harry looked back, noticing Hermione's worried face. He raised an eyebrow in reply, as if to say, "_What's wrong?_"

         Hermione darted her eyes in the direction of Neville. "_He's evil!" _she mouthed.

         "_Huh?_" mouthed Harry. "_I can't understand you, you're too far away!"_

         "_EVIL!" _ mouthed Hermione. 

         Harry shook his head, indicating that he couldn't understand Hermione. He wasn't as good a lip reader as Hermione was. This hacked off Hermione to great lengths. She swore under her breath while Dobby tried vainly to get everyone's attention. 

         Finally, he did so by shooting the Barbie doll's head into the air, sparks flying from it, revealing the truth that the doll was actually a firecracker. 

         "Oh, poor Barbie," said Sirius. "Now, her boobs are going to be all out of proportion now that Barbie's been decapitated!" 

         "You know what? Barbie is evil," replied Lupin.

         "Yeah," replied Sirius. "Muggles are mad for having created her. If she was a real woman, she'd scare me out of my wits. I've read that if she was life-sized, she'd be seven feet tall, her neck would be like twelve inches long, and her waist would be the diameter of a baseball bat!" He shuddered. 

         Lupin grimaced in disgust at the image Sirius's description conjured in his mind. "That's nasty, indeed."

         "Okay, Dobby is having your attentions now!" screamed Dobby.  Everyone finally looked at the house-elf. "Dobby is telling the rules of this third challenge! We have a circling food thingy! One person from each tribe must come up, and whatever the food thingy stops on, the person must eat them! If they are unable to eat it and swallow it, they will be kicked off the show!" 

          A revolving food dispenser came out of the ground. It was brightly colorful, and dishes were placed around it. The tribes were too far away to see what was in the dishes. 

          "Starting now!" announced Dobby. "Be sending your first two people up!" 

         Hermione nodded. "I'll go."

         Meanwhile, Draco had volunteered to go, thinking a task as simple as eating something would be a breeze.

         When they approached the revolving food dispenser, they realized they were horribly wrong.         

          There were eight bowls. The ones opposite of each other had the same things in them. There were four different things in the bowl. One was what looked like a pale-green Bertie-Bott's Every Flavor Bean. The next was a chocolate frog. The next was what horribly looked like raw jellyfish. And the fourth one consisted of a small, writhing snake. 

         "Oh, my god," whispered Hermione. 

         "Fuck," hissed Draco. 

         "The wheel starts turning. When it stops, you is must eating what is in plate in front of you," announced Dobby.

         The wheel started to revolve. 

         Hermione could not help thinking, "_Wheel, turn turn turn. Tell me the lesson I should learn. NEVER EVER VOLUNTEER TO BE IN A SHOW LIKE THIS ONE EVER AGAIN!"_

Similar thoughts were racing through Draco's mind, only each word was followed by a swear term. 

         The wheel stopped. Hermione, afraid of the worst, leaned over to look into her bowl. 

         Draco let out a short yell. 

         It was the raw jellyfish. 

         "That is being the Aiyo-aiyo, the stomach parasite that kills you!" 

         "It'll kill us?" gasped Hermione, her stomach doing somersaults. 

         "No, only if it is being alive," replied Dobby. 

         Draco stared with fright at his lump of semi-translucent tissue. He could have sworn he saw it twitch. 

          "You is having three seconds to eat it," said Dobby. "Three… two.."

         Hermione pinched her nose and stuffed the Aiyo-aiyo down her mouth, and swallowed it as fast as she could.

         Draco, however, when he'd put the thing in his mouth, he'd immediately gagged on it and spat it out. 

         "Draco is being kicked off the show!" squeaked Dobby. 

         Draco cursed under his breath and walked to the Ominanas, sobbing by the time he'd reached them. Hermione was walking shakily to her Bomanina members, and being greeted with congratulatory slaps on her back. 

         "OW! BE CAREFUL! I'VE GOT SUNBURN THERE!" she screeched. 

         Neville smirked at Hermione. "G-g-good job." 

         Hermione stared back coldly. 

         "Next!" 

         Sirius and Snape were next to come up on the stand. They got the writhing snakes. Both of them failed miserably, having upchucked their partially-digested rice all over the ground. 

         Lupin and Harry came up. They got the Bertie-Bott beans. 

         "One of those beans is being the good one, and one is being the bad one!" squeaked Dobby. 

         The beans were both pale green. Harry got the one that tasted like green apple. He didn't like it much, but it wasn't too bad. Poor Lupin, however, got the one that tasted like garbage sludge.

         Lupin's vomit joined Sirius's on the ground. 

         And finally, Voldemort and Neville came forward. The members of the tribes threw them jealous looks as they munched contentedly on their chocolate frogs. 

         Sirius, Lupin, Snape, and Draco were gone now. 

         Now, it was just Harry and Lord Voldemort against Neville and Hermione.

         ***

         "Well, well," clicked Aragog, who was still tied down with steel cables. "That was interesting. It's just Harry and Lord Voldemort against Neville and Hermione. That rotten, garbage-sludge Bertie Bott's bean sounds so delectably appealing to me.." 

          With this, Aragog began drooling all over the place, causing Ms. Baker to become exceedingly hacked off. 

***


	11. The Final Episode: The Winner!

THE WIZARD SURVIVOR SHOW

The Final Episode 

***

          "Hello, Severus," chirped a man who had just run up to Snape. "Hi, my name's Andy Warlock and I-" 

            "It's Professor Snape," he snapped in his most acid voice. "I want my wand back. Now," he added poisonously. He had just been Apparated back into a room with several Wizard Survivor Officials, and he was exceedingly pissed off and still somewhat nauseated from having been forced to put a live snake in his mouth. "Where's… my …wand?" he hissed, pausing after each word. 

          Starting slightly, Andy Warlock and the Wizard Survivor officials set off to retrieve Snape's wand. While they did so, Snape took in the appearance of the room around him. It was small and shabby. The walls were dingy and brown, and a gas lamp provided the only source of light. _Why the flying hippogriph was he in this crappy place?! _ He noticed a table in the center of the room, and upon seeing what looked suspiciously like the Daily Prophet upon it, he moved towards it. When he reached the table, he saw that it indeed was the Daily Prophet and picked it up. He had no idea as to what today's date was, as he had lost track of time when he was on the show.  He peered at the top of the newspaper, and noted that the date read the seventh of December. Practically Christmas-time. Unbelievable. Then he saw what was on the front page. 

         His jaw dropped as he read the bold print.

         "Severus Snape remains to be yet questioned by Ministry Officials as to whether he performed an illegal and heinous sexual act upon a wizard of minority age… Bumbliskin Pottsgen reports the publication of a series of lewd photographs of the Severus Snape in incriminating positions with the Potter boy. Snape, who is a Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will most certainly be under investigation as these prints shows much to document this inquiry. Suspicions of relationships between Harry Potter and Severus Snape were further alleviated when…." 

        "Good god," breathed Snape, lowering the newspaper. This would tarnish him for life.

         "What's the matter?!" screamed Andy Warlock, who had come running into the room upon hearing Snape's anguished cries of rage. 

         "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" raged Snape. "Who authorized this drivel?!"

         "Well, that-" stammered Andy Warlock. He coughed and became extremely shifty-looking. "Um… here's your wand," he muttered, handing out the stick that Snape had coveted so badly when he was a Survivor. 

         Snape snatched it angrily away from a stunned Andy. He whipped it around and pointed it threateningly at Andy. "_Furnunculus," _he whispered in his coldest voice. 

         Orange tentacles began to pop out of Andy Warlock's plump face like demon weeds. He ran away from the room, screaming like a banshee.

         A Survivor official came in the room and handed him a bag full of something heavy. Snape looked at him, puzzled, and began to raise his wand to hex him as well, when the official stated simply, "Your complimentary award. One thousand Galleons." 

         Snape froze out of shock for a moment, then simply nodded at him. "Just get me out of here," he growled. 

         He was led by the official out of the room, and then down a stairwell so dark that he had to grip on the wobbly handrails for fear that he would miss a step and fall. Then it hit him that he had once more use of a wand, something he'd been denied for over two weeks. 

         "_Lumos," _he said. A beautiful point of light appeared at the tip of his wand. Snape was so happy, he could have kissed his own wand. And he did. 

         "Um, Mister Snape?" asked the worried official. 

         "Oh!" he said, pulling his lips from his wand. "Yes?" he growled. "And it's Professor Snape, not Mister Snape," he snarled.

         "Shall we descend?" 

         "Yes, gormless git!" snapped Snape, before he could stop himself. Boy, he was hacked off. But, who wouldn't have been? 

         They finally came to the bottom of the stairs, went through a dim hallway, and to a closed door. "Have a nice day," said the official, opening the door for Snape. Sunlight poured through the opening of the door. Freedom. 

         From somewhere above him, he thought that he heard Lupin and Sirius's voices. He shrugged, simply assuming that they had been Apparated into the same room he had been in, and proceeded through the door. Well, rather, he barged through it.

         Into daylight… into the cold London air… he closed his eyes and breathed it in… and opened them again…. and found himself surrounded by a horde of screaming reporters. 

         "MISTER SNAPE?! WHAT ARE YOUR COMMENTS ABOUT HAVING FINALLY GOTTEN OFF THE SHOW?!"

         "MISTER SNAPE? HOW DO YOU FEEL?!"   
  
          "TURN YOUR HEAD, SO I CAN TAKE A PICTURE!" 

         "What the hell?" said Snape, sneering. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" 

         "WILL YOU SLEEP WITH ME LIKE YOU DID POTTER?!" 

         "No!" cried Snape once more. He gasped with horror at all the reporters that surrounded him. This was bad. Very bad. 

         And the dozens of frenzied reporters closed onto him, while he screamed, "… for the love of the gods…. Nooooo!"  

          ***

         "Hello, sirs and misses! It is Dobby here! This is being near the end of Survivor! It is being Voldemort and Harry against Hermione and Neville? Who will beating each other? Who is going to be winning the fifty thousand Galleons?" squeaked Dobby. 

         Aragog growled in reply. "It's good that this show is over so I can go back to my loving Acromantula daughters and sons in peace… and consume people whenever I wish!" he added scathingly, glaring pointedly at a very bored Miss Baker. 

         "We is showings the show now!" 

         "Damn straight," muttered Miss Baker wearily.

         ***

         Harry sat down on the warm sand, his eyes glazed over. This stupid show was almost over… almost over. Soon, they'd be out of here. Soon, they'd be away from all the stupid damn snakes and stupid challenges and such like-

         Harry's angry thoughts fell into a state of jumbled cacophony. Swear terms were running their course throughout his mind… he wasn't even aware of what he was sitting on. 

         A painful pinch on the underneath of his thigh shook him from his thoughts. "OW!" yelped Harry.  There was another painful pinch on his calf. Then one on his right foot. And yet another on his rear. Harry finally found the sense to look down. He wished he hadn't.

         There were enormous angry ants swarming up his legs. Each ant had a head the size of a five-pence (equivalent to the size of a quarter).  And all of them were eager to bite. 

         Harry screamed out of pain. He leapt up from the ant mound he had been sitting on, and tried frantically to brush the angry bull-headed ants off his leg. When this endeavor proved to be unsuccessful, he took to retreating to the river and submerging himself in it. 

         An hour later, he emerged from the river, having been successful in ridding himself of all the vicious ants. He, however, was now wincing at the sight of huge, golf-ball sized welts that had popped up from every ant bite. His legs looked like they were completely covered in pink cobblestones.  The ant bites were terribly itchy, and painful to the touch. Harry discovered this little fact when he reached down to scratch a particularly festering one upon his foot. 

          ***

         Voldemort snapped awake to the sound of a blood-curdling howl, followed by obscene swear words. He poked his head out of the tent to see Harry hopping around on the sand like a madman, whimpering and sobbing. Voldemort scoffed, and pulled his head back into the tent. 

         There were only four people left all together now, he thought. Himself, Longbottom, Granger, and Potter. Only if he had his wand. Then he could Avada-Kedrava them all, and be off this cursed show. 

         He sighed. That particular feeling was was rising up in him again. He got up and walked out the tent, looking at Harry warily. The boy was rolling around on the sand, moaning pitifully. Voldemort noted that there were large, pink welts on the boy's legs. Well, at least he was preoccupied. Voldemort shifted his attention back in front of him and slipped into the underbrush.

         ***

         Harry gritted his teeth. The pain, the itchiness in his legs was unbearable! He couldn't scratch them, or he'd be plunged into an abyss of utter pain. But.. it was too much. His finger itched towards a prickly one on his knee…

               "AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!" squealed Harry. 

         This was agony. He had to go up and do something, he had to run- anything. 

         Harry got up and started running madly. Where was he going? It didn't matter… just as long as he kept moving! 

         He was in the underbrush now.. there were trees rushing all around him.. he had to go around bushes.. everything was flying by-

         And all of a sudden, he tripped over something. 

         His ant bites began to call out to him once more. "_Scratch us, scratch us, you can't resist us,"_ his ant bites sang. 

         "NO! I REFUSE TO SCRATCH ANY OF YOU!" Harry hissed angrily to his jeering ant bites. He jerked his head away to look at what he'd tripped over. A root, perhaps? 

         It wasn't a root, to his surprise, but a boot. And a thin, pale, white leg was coming out of the boot..  he moved his eyes up the leg…

         "OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN!" screamed Harry in disgust. He'd forgotten about his ant bites now; what he was seeing was too horrible for him to shift his attention to anything else. 

         "POTTER?!" yelped Voldemort, springing back from the tree he'd just been passionately snogging. "What do you think you're doing?" he cried, after he had dived into a luckily nearby bush. 

         "I'm trying to ignore my ant bites! And I have to run into you, and you.. you… you don't have a stitch on you! I'm going to be scarred for life, thanks to you!" screeched Harry, his mouth twisted in disgust. 

         "I've already scarred you for life," pointed out Voldemort, eyeing the scar on Harry's forehead. "Never mind, you will never, ever, speak a word of this to anyone, or I will kill you. You got that?!" 

         "Why should I? You already want to kill me!"

         "Point taken. Could you kindly leave me now, so I can… cover up once more?" hissed Voldemort. 

                    "GLADLY!" spat Harry, who immediately fled from his spot. Then a distance "_PERVERT!" _rang throughout the woods. 

         'Good lord,' thought Voldemort to himself. 'You need to be more careful when you want to find one of your trees … you don't want the world to find out that you have this bad habit of snogging trees.'

***

         Hermione leaned against her tree, watching Neville nervously. Neville was sitting on a rotten stump across the campsite, staring back at her in a very chuffed manner- this gave Hermione the creeps. 

         Hermione shifted her view and tried to focus on something else, anything but Neville. Ah! There was a little ant on the tree! Nice ant. Better than Neville. 

         Suddenly, someone hissed behind her. "_HERMIONE!" _

Hermione jumped, and looked at Neville warily. He was walking into the tent now. 'To do what?' thought Hermione. Then she decided she didn't want to speculate as to what Neville might possibly be doing in the tent. 

         "_Hermione!"_ hissed the voice again, which she now realized was familiar. 

          "Huh?" she said, looking all over for the source of the whisper. 

         "_HERMIONE! It's Ron! I'm in the bushes!" _

Hermione's eyes widened with amazement, but she didn't let on otherwise. She looked over her shoulder once more at the tent, saw nothing to concern her, and moved quickly into the bush. 

          Ron's blue eyes greeted her. 

          "Ohmygod!" gasped Hermione. "Are you ok? The sunstroke?" 

         "I'm just fine. All I needed was a bit of Cool-down potion to perk me up."

         "Ron? How'd you get here?" she asked as an afterthought. 

         Ron grinned. "Well, when we got off the show, we got a thousand complimentary Galleons each. So I spent part of it on a Firebolt. Can you believe it?" he squealed gleefully, holding up the magnificent broom in front of him.

         "_Shut up!" _hissed Hermione. "Neville'll hear you!" 

         "Oops, bugger, yeah," replied Ron apologetically. 

         "You know he's evil? We've got to do something!" 

         "I knew there was something funny about that oik," muttered Ron. 

         "So, you believe me?" 

         "Yeah. I mean, sometimes, you do get on my nerves with all your bookish quotes-" but Ron was cut off with a light slap in the face. He looked imploringly at Hermione, who shook her head. "Okay, anyway, has Neville done anything to you?"

         "He.." said Hermione, pausing as she recollected the memories of the previous night. She shuddered. "He.. snogged… me, while I was asleep." 

         Ron's jaw dropped. He looked as if he didn't believe Hermione. 

         "And I think he would have probably knocked me up if I hadn't woken up in time.." trailed off Hermione, shuddering. 

         Ron stared at her.

         "And he confessed that he's been leading us all on a charade. But you and I are the only ones who know this!" 

         "Um.. that might be just you.. you might be going over the top…" admitted Ron, looking at Hermione as if she were crazy. 

         "What the hell? You don't believe me?" hissed Hermione. 

         Ron winced, shrugging his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth. "I-"

         "Shhh!" 

         Neville's voice came drifting towards them. Ron appeared to be taken aback when he heard that Neville's voice didn't have its usual stammering and stuttering tone.. it was now a voice laced with cold cruelty. 

         "Hermione, Hermione, where are you? Are you hiding from me?" sang-song Neville. "Is the Hermione afraid of me? Are you still overwhelmed by my irresistible charms?"

         Ron's face twisted into that of disgust as he looked at Hermione, whose eyes were wide with fright. 'I believe you now,' he mouthed. 

          'I told you so,' mouthed back Hermione imperiously. 'Stay here.' She got up and walked out of the bush. 

          Ron could hear their conversation.

         "Neville, for god's sake, sod off! I'm trying to relieve myself!" 

         "Aw… you want Neville to do anything about it?"

         Ron had to restrain from saying "Ewwww" out loud. This was not the Neville he knew, or thought he knew. 

         "Neville, go away, you plonker. Go and sit on your stump!" 

         "Oh, shock! Horror!" he exclaimed. "Why should I do that?" 

         For a moment, Ron was unable to hear anything. Then there was a loud _smack!_ and Neville giving a slight yelp. Then a deep, low, growl emanated from him. 

         "You'll be sorry, you did that.. you Mudblood. I'm going to get the fifty thousand galleons, and you're going down."

         "MUDBLOOD?! YOU STUPID, SPINELESS GIT!" screamed Hermione. In the bush, Ron gasped in surprise. He'd never heard Hermione slag off anyone like this. The show must be getting to her. 

          There was then a crunching noise, as if Hermione had punched Neville's nose and broken it. Ron's supposition was proved when he heard Hermione say: "Yeah, go nurse your damn nose, you damned arse-hole."

 Neville groaned, then laughed sinisterly and he could be heard walking away. 

          Hermione came rushing back into the bush. 

         "Bugger, man! I can't believe you did that!" blurted Ron.

         "Yes. We've got to do something. Tonight. Can you stay here?"

         "Yeah, totally. I've got a load of stuff here-" said Ron, drawing from behind him a bag bulging with the contents of whatever was in it. 

         "What's that?" snapped Hermione, eyeing it. 

         "Food," said Ron simply. "Chocolate frogs, sugar quills, ice mice-" 

         "Ron, I love you!" cried Hermione, rushing forward and giving Ron a passionate kiss. Then she dove at the bag, tearing it open.

         "Um.. yeah, same feelings here, like, a friend.. you know?" stammered Ron, as he watched her devour a chocolate frog. 

         ***

         Voldemort and Harry were both in the campsite now. Voldemort kept giving Harry uncomfortable looks, and Harry in return kept avoiding looking at him. He was still reeling with disgust at what he'd witnessed. 

         "We need to tend to the fire," said Voldemort abysmally. 

         "Fine," grunted Harry. 

         They moved towards the fire, which was dwindling dangerously. 

         Voldemort squatted besides it, contemplating it. "Potter, would you kindly bring me some sticks?" 

         "Yeah, but I refuse to do it kindly," snapped Harry. Suddenly, a surprisingly strong wind blew up, causing him to stumble forward and fall onto Voldemort. This resulted in Voldemort's falling face-first into the fire. He whipped out his hand to keep his face from landing on the glowing coals-

         "AAAAAARGGGGGGGGH!" screamed Voldemort. Harry scrambled away from him, eyes widened. Voldemort jerked away from the fire, staring at his hands. They were badly, badly, burned. He let out another anguished scream and dashed towards the river. 

         Suddenly, Harry's stomach rumbled loudly. He really, really, wanted something to eat other than the dwindling supplies of mushy, tasteless, flavorless rice. 

         "Hey, Voldy?" called out Harry. Getting no response from Voldemort, who was busy submerging his hands in the river, he shrugged and got up. "I'm going to go hunt a baby warthog or find some fruit or get killed or something, I'm starving." 

         "I don't give a toss," muttered Voldemort, resulting in Harry's leaving the tent in an angry huff.

         A hour later, Voldemort was sitting under a tree, wrapping his hands with bandages the best as he could. This really, really, sucked. It appeared that his injury had not been devastating enough for a Mediwizard to pop out of the air and rescue him from this hell….Shite, shite, shite.. Or maybe it was because he was Voldemort- the greatest Dark Lord ever. They were jealous of him. Damn Survivor people. 

         Suddenly, he heard Harry's yells echoing throughout the woods behind him. Next thing he knew, Harry ran out of the woods, his eyes practically popping out of his head. A thundering noise was following. 

         "SHITE VOLDEMORT! THERE'S A DEMON PACK OF WARTHOGS!" 

         "What the hell are you talking about?" asked Voldemort. 

         The rumbling in the woods grew louder. 

         "RUN! DAMMIT!" yelled Harry, not caring about the fact that Voldemort was his worst enemy. 

         "Um, ok," consented Voldemort, running in the same direction as Harry. They ran until they were standing in the shallow water of the river. "What's going on?" 

         "Warthogs. They're mad!" 

         At this, the rumbling noise reached its crescendo. Hundreds of dog-sized animals barreled out of the woods, snarling and squealing. 

         Warthogs. 

         Angry warthogs. 

         Demon warthogs. 

          Mad warthogs. 

          "Fuck me, what'd you do?" hissed Voldemort. 

         "I just tripped over one of their piglets, I swear!" screeched Harry. 

          The pack of warthogs advanced towards the edge of the river, eyeing the two of them with murderous looks. 

          Voldemort shifted uneasily. Suddenly, an idea formed itself in his mind. 

         He opened his mouth, and hissed. 

         Harry looked at him, puzzled. Then he realized that he understood Voldemort's hisses. 

         "_Voldemort? What are you doing?" _hissed Harry. 

         _"What? You speak Parseltongue too?" _asked Voldemort in amazement. He had been previously saying, "_Come to me, oh my snake friends!" _

          Suddenly, as if on cue, hundreds of snakes began slithering out of the underbrush and towards the unknowing warthogs. 

          "_Hey, Voldemort, matey, what's up?" _called one of the snakes. 

         "_Well, you can see we're in a very bad situation," _replied Voldemort, nervously watching the warthogs, who were starting to step cautiously into the river towards them. They were only three meters away. 

         "_No prob, matey, we'll get rid of 'em!" _

_          "Snakes have a bad Aussie accent?" _hissed Harry, amazed. 

         _"Hell, yeah, what's it to you, you rockface?" _hissed the snake. 

         _"What's that supposed to mean?" _

_          "Dunno. Anyway, hold on, we'll get you out of yor preacament, mateys!" _

The hundreds of snakes slithered towards the warthogs. When the thickheaded warthogs finally took note of them, they all panicked and immediately fled towards the woods. 

          "_Dammit, I wanted to get a bite out of them!" _cursed a snake. 

         _"Yeah,_" agreed the other snakes, rather disappointedly. 

         "_Well, thank you very much, my friends," _sighed Voldemort. "_I really, really, appreciate it."_

_          "Uh, same goes for here, too," _added Harry.

               "_No prob, mateys! If you get your magic stick back, and see us again, conjure us up some fat lizards, would you?"_

Voldemort nodded, and the snakes slithered back into the woods happily.

         "That was weird," said Harry, shifting back to normal English mode. 

         "Yes, the wonders of Parseltongue. Just how did you get the trait of being a Parseltongue now?" said Voldemort, rounding around on him. "I can't believe that.. you wouldn't mind being my apprentice, would you?"

         "BLOODY HELL! NO!" screamed Harry, running away. 

         Voldemort sighed. "I'll just have to kill him.. for the one thousandth time."

         Suddenly, a bloodcurdling howl rang throughout the area, followed by Harry's panicked yells: "_HELP ME! AAAARGH! VOLDIEEE! HELP!" _

Voldemort rolled his eyes and walked towards the sound of Harry's voice. Soon, he found Harry, who was in the process of being mauled by a dingo. 

         "Good god," gasped Voldemort. He looked around for something to beat the dingo off with, as he couldn't possibly let the dingo kill Harry Potter! Harry Potter was his alone to kill! 

         Voldemort flew forward, plunging his teeth into the dingo's neck. "DIE, YOU EVIL BASTARD DINGO! HARRY POTTER IS MINE! IF YOU TRY TO EAT HIM, I'LL STUFF YOUR HEAD SO FAR UP THE CRACK OF YOUR REAR YOU'LL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN!"

         This prompted the dingo to scoot away very quickly, whimpering as he went. 

         Voldemort looked at Harry. He was groaning and clutching a severely mangled leg. 

         "Thanks, Voldy. Never thought I'd say it, but.. thanks," grunted Harry through gritted teeth. 

         "No problem," replied Voldemort casually. "How many times do I have to tell you, _don't call me Voldy! _Well… at least you're not dead. But you know I'm going to kill you later on." 

         "I'm getting really sick of hearing you say that. Why don't you just kill me now?!" 

         "Well.. because, I want my wand when I do it, for crying out loud!" 

         "You whinging waster."

         "You better watch out, Potter, or.. I'll get you!" growled Voldemort menacingly. This only earned him laughter from Harry. 

         "Yeah, yeah, sure," whimpered Harry, looking at his leg, which was bleeding badly. Suddenly, to his relief, there was a popping sound in the air and then a Mediwizard stood by them. 

He reached down, magicked a protesting Harry onto a stretcher, and then the both of them disappeared into thin air. 

         "Well, that's just lovely," muttered Voldemort. "AND MAKE SURE THE BOY LIVES! I'VE GOT TO KILL HIM!" he called out as an afterthought. Then he realized he was the last one on the Ominana tribe. 

          Well… there was one good thing about finally being left alone. He turned to a rather attractive tree to his right. "So, good-looking, how's the sunbathing going, eh? Did you know you have an incredibly sexy outfit?" purred Voldemort, running a finger up and down the bark. 

          "OH! How dare you! You pissing-in-the-wind wanker!" screeched the tree suddenly.

         "You talk!" gasped Voldemort, oblivious to the insults that had just been hurled at him.

         "Of course, I'm a magical talking tree! I really exist!" 

         "Well.. did you hear me telling you I thought you were sexy?" 

         "Well.. yes.." replied the tree, sounding flattered. "SNOG ME, YOU MADMAN! KISS ME, YOU FOOL!"

          ***

         The parrot in the tree above Voldemort was watching him concernedly. The bald, very white guy (perhaps a lack of tan? – it thought-) was acting really strangely.. he was having conversation with a silent tree. Maybe it had something to do with that bush nearby.. the pollen from the flowers of that bush often caused hallucinations….

         His head-plume rose in alarm as he saw Voldemort launching him towards the tree and begin some sort of disgusting mouth activity … 

         The parrot couldn't take it anymore. With a flutter of wings, he rose into the air and fled. 

         ***

         "I'm going to the loo," said Hermione. "Don't you dare follow me," she hissed. 

         "Of course.. I'll just sit here, imagining you as I see fit.." purred Neville. 

         "You sick prat," snarled Hermione, walking away from him. She proceeded across the campsite and to the very bush where Ron was. 

         When Hermione ducked into the bush, she whispered immediately: "I've got a plan. It's a very dirty, underhanded way of getting Neville put away.. but, seems it's our only option. You did bring that manual can-opener, didn't you? We'll have to do it tonight." 

          Ron nodded, retrieving the specified item from his knapsack. 

          "Wonderful," exclaimed Hermione. She leaned forward to whisper the details in Ron's ear. 

          Ron's eyes widened. "Oh, lord…"     

         ***

                    The insects of the night were beginning their racket when Hermione finally came to Ron's bush. Ron was snoring lightly, and an enormous spider was crawling up his neck. Thinking it best that Ron wasn't informed of this fact, she brushed it off. Then she shook him awake. 

         "Huh? Tis time alreadly? I don't want to go to ballet lessons," whined Ron sleepily. 

         "Ballet lessons?" replied Hermione. "Wake up, it's time to begin our revenge." 

         Ron woke up fully and then nodded, shuddering as he thought about it. He picked up the can-opener and nodded again. 

         Together, they stole out of the bush and padded softly across the sand which was lightly illuminated by the overhead stars. They reached the tent. 

         "I don't know if I can do this.. I mean, I've done it to some animals that we used to have.. a couple of male goats who were being slightly too compulsive around the females… I was the one forced to do it to them or they'd have impregnated every animal on the barnyard… but hearing them moan in pain for days…. Are you sure we can do this?" whispered Ron.

          "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's the only way to take him out. Get him in his, ugh, bollocks.." Hermione whispered back, grimacing. She paused, looking at the tent. 

         "Let's do it. Remember, this is the story.. an animal came running in and did it.." 

         Hermione nodded. They both slipped into the tent. 

         "Never thought it'd come down to castration.." said Ron's voice quietly. He shuddered. 

         Several minutes later, an abnormally high-pitched scream could be heard for several kilometers around.

***

         Morning came, bright and sunny. Hermione opened her eyes and looked at Neville, who was moaning as if in pain. She, however, already knew why Neville seemed to be undergoing such agony. She got up and acted as if she was about to walk out of the tent, when Neville's strained voice called out to her. "Hermione!" 

         "What?" 

         "Get a Medi.. wizard," grunted Neville through gritted teeth, his lower body and arms covered by a blanket. He looked as if he were trying to clutch his goolies. 

         "_Mission accomplished_," thought Hermione, trying not to smile. "What happened?" she asked, feigning concern. 

         "I don't know what happened, but I had this nightmare that two animals came in here and ravaged me…" groaned Neville. "But, mind you, I'll still get you, you little Mudblood. After all…" 

         He was cut off by a kick in his already severed testicles by a very pissed-off Hermione. This destroyed any chances of him remaining on the show. 

         ***

         "Bye-bye, Neville!" sang Hermione sweetly as a Mediwizard magicked Neville, who was clutching the bloody knackers of his pants, onto a stretcher and disappeared. 

         Dobby's image suddenly appeared in the air. "Congratulations. We are now down to one survivor for each tribe! Hermione Granger against Lord Voldemort! The winner of the fifty-thousand galleon award will be determined in the final challenge. Meet at the Nitty-Witty site at five o' clock today. Wear swimsuit gear!"  

         His perky image swiftly disappeared. 

         "Ooo," breathed Hermione. She noted that Dobby had spoken in perfect English. That was odd. Someone must have finally gone over the edge and given the house-elf a beating until he was able to use proper grammar. She must remind herself to give that vile elf-abuser a tongue lashing later on… she was so hacked off now.. oy.. she'd get them..

         Meanwhile, she dashed off towards the bush to wake up Ron. 

         "Wha? Did it work? Did it get rid of Neville?" he asked upon being shaken awake. 

         "Well, if it hadn't, the insurance I provided definitely did," beamed Hermione. 

         "Well, it's agreed. You win, we split the award, 50-50, right? It's a partnership." 

         Hermione grinned. "Twenty-five thousand galleons apiece."

         *** 

         At five o' clock, the heat was coming off the baked mud in waves. Hermione had to gasp to breath, as she leaned against a tree, waiting impatiently for Dobby to appear. Fifty feet away from her, was Voldemort, who was also leaning against a tree. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be muttering to himself. 

         A pop heralded Dobby's late arrival. 

         "Hello, my sir and miss!" squeaked Dobby. Hermione idly noted that the house-elf had reverted back to his normal manner of speaking. She must ask him about that… it was so banged up hot right now.. however. 

         "Dobby is announcing the clincher challenge! The clincher is being….. MUD-WRESTLING!" 

         Suddenly, neither Hermione nor Voldemort were fatigued and hot and bothered any more. Their jaws hanging from their hinges, they stared at the house-elf in disbelief. 

         "You've got to be fucking kidding me," Voldemort said at last.

         "Dobby is not fucking kidding you!" said Dobby happily. A wizard appeared besides the elf, who then waved a wand. Several whooshing, glunking sounds later, an enormous mud-hole had appeared in front of them. 

          To their horror, Voldemort and Hermione found themselves being lifted up in the air and being set down side by side, knee-deep in mud.

         "I'll never do this!" squealed Hermione. "NEVER!"

         "Same here!" snarled Voldemort. "I REFUSE TO DO THIS!"

         "Perhaps this is assisting your hasty decisions?" squeaked the house-elf. Next thing they knew, hundreds of beach ball-sized cauldrons popped out of thin air all around Dobby, each one of them overflowing with dazzling Galleons. 

         "Okay, I'm doing it," said Hermione.

         "Me too. You die, Granger," hissed Voldemort.

         "No, you die, whitey." 

          "BUSHY HAIR!" 

         "GORMLESS GIT!"

         "HORSE-EARS!" 

         "BLOODSHOT EYES! And what's wrong with my ears?!" squealed Hermione.

         "Is Dobby getting your attentions, please? The rules are, there are no rules. Whoever drops from exhaustion first is winning. And no below-the-belt," added Dobby warningly.

          Hermione groaned, as that had been the first option that'd come up in her mind.

               "BEGINNING NOW!" shouted the house-elf. 

         Both Survivors launched themselves at each other, throwing themselves into a rather disgusting display of dirty underhandedness. 

         At the moment, Voldemort had torn several large clumps of Hermione's bushy hair out, while Hermione had scratched several long, bloody marks on his arms with her fingernails. 

         A half-hour later, they were covered from head to toes in mud. There was mud on every single spot of them, including unspeakable areas. Voldemort attempted to drown Hermione in the mud, but the house-elf came over, squealing, "NO NO NO! WE IS NOT KILLING!" 

         "Fine, fine!" grumbled Voldemort, letting Hermione get back up again, a mistake. Hermione threw herself on Voldemort's back and wrapped her hands around his throat, squeezing. 

         "NO NO NO! WE IS NOT CHOKING PEOPLE!" squealed Dobby frantically. 

         "Fine. I'll just give him a noogie!" hissed Hermione, and she did so. This resulted in hysterical yells from Voldemort, as he had no hair upon his head to speak of. 

         To an innocent bystander, they might have been mistaken as Creatures from the Mud Lagoon.

         Yet over an hour later, they were bordering the brink of exhaustion. Hermione was attempting feebly to administer a headlock position she'd learned from watching Sirius teaching the Weasley twins wrestling techniques. Voldemort threw her backwards into the mud, and she lay down, horrified as Voldemort grabbed her leg and proceeded to twist it around. 

          "Eeeeeee! YOU STUPID GIT!" squealed Hermione painfully. She reached with an arm and managed to grab Voldemort's ankle.  With an almighty wrench, she pulled him down, unintentionally causing Voldemort to fall flat on her.

         "ARRRRRRRRRGH! GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME!" screamed Hermione, flailing her arms as she stared into Voldemort's scarlet eyes, which were a millimeter away from her own. 

               Voldemort immediately did so, and he gagged in disgust. "I can't believe you did that! Damnit! Do you know how incriminating that'll look?!" 

         Hermione, however wasn't looking. She was shuddering violently as she realized that Voldemort had literally been all over her.  Then, without warning, she yelled, "YOU DIE, YOU WHITEY PEDOPHILE WANKER!" and then she head-butted herself into Voldemort's stomach. 

         Voldemort let out a long, pained moan before collapsing into the mud. 

         For a moment, everything fell silent around Hermione; the world dimmed around her as she surveyed Voldemort's mud-coated, groaning figure in the mud. 

         Trumpets blared and a shower of gold descended around her.

         She barely noticed Dobby shrieking, "_HERMIONE GRANGER IS BEING THE WINNER OF THE WIZARD SURVIVOR SHOW!"_

Next thing she knew, she was fully dressed and perfectly clean, standing on a platform in the middle of Diagon Alley, surrounded by thousands of screaming wizards and witches. 

         Someone came up to her with a Quick-quotes Quill. It was a female reporter, followed by a man with a camera.

         "Miss Granger? How do you feel about being the final Survivor and winner of fifty thousand Galleons?"

         "Uh, well, for one thing, I'm very much relieved and I want to go home and get in my bathtub and draw up a bubble bath and read _Hogwarts, A History_ and never fill out an application for a goddamn sweepstake ever again. Oh yes, and I want to say hello to my parents. Hi, Mom! Hi Dad!"

         ***

         _finis_

Author's Note- Well, that's that. I'm rather glad I polished this over. I can lay this story to rest now. 


End file.
